


Marionette

by ryttu3k



Series: All Fun and Games [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cross-Generational Friendship, Forced Prostitution, Hunger Games Tributes, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Loads and Loads of Characters - Freeform, M/M, Mentors, Multi, Muteness, POV Multiple, Rebellion, Sign Language, Suicide Attempt, Team as Family, Weapons of Mass Destruction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 06:06:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 35
Words: 71,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2721560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryttu3k/pseuds/ryttu3k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the midst of the second Quarter Quell, Shauna Sahnoun and Serena Michel find themselves thrown into a world of violence, secrets, and revolution. With the help of their mentors, Augustine Sycamore and Lysandre de Lyon, and with the rebellion in full swing, they must find a way to survive against the Arena, against the Capitol, against President Harmonia, and against the threat coming from within...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A Pokemon Hunger Games AU. Please be aware that there are dark themes within - Hunger Games canonically has children being forced to fight and kill children, poverty, starvation, and oppression, and implications that the Capitol makes ready use of both torture and forced prostitution (including of minors), all of which feature in this fic. If you find this material to be disturbing, I will take absolutely no offense if you choose not to read it! Each chapter will have its own warnings for dark or triggering themes in the chapter.

**Chapter One**

Reaping Day never got any easier.

Lysandre found himself on the familiar stage in the familiar square in the familiar city of Kiloude and stared out at the crowds of children shifting nervously before them. They were afraid, and they had good reason to be so - their fates were in the hands of the Capitol now, in the slips of paper enclosed in two great glass spheres, and for two of them, their worlds were about to change.

Reaping Day never got any easier, and Lysandre knew this from long and bitter experience. He had, after all, been in precisely the same place, a terrified sixteen-year-old trying not to let his fear show as his name had been called and he had forced his leaden feet to the stage.

"Welcome to the Fiftieth Annual Hunger Games!" the announcer called suddenly, and Lysandre started. "And may the odds be ever in your favour! As you well know, this is a very special year - it is, after all, the second Quarter Quell!"

There was a smattering of applause, the silence hanging thickly in the air, and the announcer faltered briefly.

"We will be finding out what makes these Games so special in just a few days on the eve of the Games," the announcer continued gamely, "But for now, let us proceed with the ceremony! Please, roll the tape!"

As the mandatory film started rolling, Lysandre sat back and sighed, watching the crowd. The younger ones were always the most fearful - the twelve-year-olds down the front, biting their lips and shifting from foot to foot, would have never found themselves there before, facing the potential of death. They were afraid, although they had the least amount to fear of all.

The thirteen-year-olds had survived once and had the arrogance of youth; the fourteen-year-olds knew anyone could fall. The eighteen-year-olds at the back were always an interesting mix - arrogance and the knowledge that soon they would be free of the yearly horror of Reaping Day, a few bold individuals who would jump at the chance to prove themselves, and a few who knew their chances of having their names called were greater than anyone else.

For all of them, though, they knew the possibility of death was there. Mountain Kalos had not had a winner for a very long time.

The film came to an end, and, as prompted, Lysandre stood with Olympia at his side. "Please welcome our Mentors for the year!" the announcer gushed, "Our wonderful Mountain Kalos Victors - Lysandre de Lyon and Olympia Olivier!"

Lysandre simply inclined his head. This was an old game.

"And, of course," the announcer continued, "Our other Victor, who will be available for advice as well - Wulfric LeBlanc!" They grinned. "Now, shall we see which of our brave boys and girls will be getting the chance to join this illustrious trio?"

Illustrious trio, indeed. This close, Lysandre could see Olympia roll her eyes.

The announcer faltered, then shook their head, the tight blue curls of Capitol fashion wobbling alarmingly. "Well, let's get to it!"

They were starting with the boys this year, it seemed, and Olympia raised her head to watch carefully as the announcer dipped their hand into the bowl and withdrew a card. Every one of the boys, as Lysandre was well aware of from long experience, would be watching closely - he gazed out at them, and watched the mounting tension and then the almost audible sigh of relief that rippled through them when it was not their name called.

The boy who had been condemned to the Games was a tiny fifteen-year-old with rather a lot of red hair. Trevor, his name was, and he was wide-eyed and terrified as he ascended the stage, Olympia settling a hand on his shoulder and squeezing reassuringly.

The process continued with the girls, and this time it was another petite teenager, a sixteen-year-old like he had once been, her expression drawn and determined as she set one foot after the other on the stairs leading up to the stage, the Peacekeepers watching her closely.

Only when she drew near could Lysandre see how badly her legs were shaking, and he gave the girl, Shauna, a reassuring nod. She nodded tightly back, not speaking as she shook Trevor's hand, her own trembling only slightly.

Terrified, then, but resigned and hiding it well. Lysandre sighed quietly - seeing this girl go to her death would not be easy.

"Well, then!" the announcer chirruped, fighting to maintain control of the suddenly relieved crowd, a few thousand teenagers free from death for another year and well aware of the peril they had narrowly escaped. "Well, this will be a Games to remember! Let us all salute our brave, _brave_ Tributes, Shauna Sahnoun and Trevor Rousseau!"

There was a smattering of applause, none very enthusiastic. Lysandre resisted the urge to smirk at the very faint show of defiance - Mountain Kalos would not play all of the Capitol's Games.

On an unspoken signal, the crowd began to dissipate, and the two Tributes found themselves ushered into the Kiloude Town Hall behind them with Lysandre and Olympia close behind. No, it wouldn't be easy - but perhaps, this year, they would have a chance.

 

The Tributes selected for the Games were allowed a small handful of visitors, but it was only Trevor who entered the Parting Rooms with his parents and older sister. Shauna, instead, dropped herself on one of the worn seats at the edge of the room, her feet barely skimming the floor, and sighed.

"Is there anyone coming for you?" Lysandre asked curiously as he took a seat as well, "Have you no family to see you off?"

"Not really," the girl admitted, swinging one leg. "I'm at the Home. I guess it's kind of good I got picked, huh? Either way, I'm not going back there again!"

No, Lysandre thought instead, this frail little girl's most likely final destination was quite possibly a body bag. "I see," he said instead, glancing at the door that Trevor had gone through with his family, and made a hurried judgement. "I will watch out for you, then."

Shauna may have been going to her death, but at least he could offer her some kindness in the last days of her life.

She nodded gratefully, still swinging her leg. "Monsieur de Lyon?" she started softly, and he glanced across at her curiously. "My odds aren't very good, are they?"

"The odds are not particularly in anyone's favour," he said evenly, trying not to glance at where he knew the cameras were concealed. "It is generally the older Tributes who win - that said, that is not set in stone. You remember the forty-third Games?"

"Liza," Shauna murmured, nodding once - the thirteen-year-old psychic was not an easy face to forget. "Uh huh - but I don't have a twin to vow to protect or anything! I don't have a family or - anything - and I'm not good at fighting and -" Her fingers dug into the ageing stuffing of the chair. "It's - it's okay. I know I'm gonna die in there. I just - I just hope it doesn't hurt."

_Don't get attached,_ he told himself firmly, but reached out and set a hand over hers in reassurance anyway. "As your Mentor," he said softly, "I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. And please - call me Lysandre."

No matter what the Capitol tried to do to them. He would, at the very least, try.

Trevor finally emerged from the room, sniffling and wiping at his eyes, and Shauna gave her region mate a sympathetic grin. "Did you say your goodbyes?" she asked gently.

He gave them a watery smile. "Yeah. My older sister said she wished she could take my place - but she couldn't, could she? She's already nineteen, and anyway, she'd be taking _your_ place and then I'd have to fight her..."

"Not everyone can volunteer to save a sibling," Lysandre conceded, meeting Olympia's eye as she returned. "Is the train ready?"

"It is," she said with a misty smile. "Shauna, Trevor, you're going to see luxury like you've never seen before. Come with us!"

The two children swapped glances, then Shauna rose from her seat and joined Trevor behind Olympia. Directly behind the Town Hall in Kiloude was the train station, and waiting on the first platform was the sleek silver train that would carry them to Lumiose City, the shining heart of Kalos. Lysandre found himself smiling faintly at the thought of what he knew was waiting for him in the city, and he boarded the train with the ease of long practice.

In front of him, Shauna gasped audibly, setting foot gingerly on the plush carpet that blanketed the entry car, her eyes as wide as saucers as she took in the rich brocade on the walls and the chandeliers twinkling above their heads.

"This way!" Olympia told them brightly, leading them to one of the other cars. "You'll be able to relax here - it's a good three hours until we reach Lumiose City, and there'll be plenty of cameras around there - you'll want to be looking relaxed and fresh! There's a make-up team in one of the other cars, and you'll be able to choose some nice clothes - and there'll be good food to eat, and a lovely observation car in the back..."

Her voice wobbled, and Lysandre did not need to be psychic to know that it was a false panacea, a small luxury that the Capitol could easily afford to butter the Tributes up before leading them like lambs to the slaughter. They all knew it - himself and Olympia, Shauna and Trevor - and none spoke of it.

"Well," Lysandre said with a tight smile, "I could certainly do with something to drink. Do either of you drink coffee?"

Trevor nodded once, Shauna smiled sheepishly and shook her head.

"I will make you a hot chocolate," he decided, and started off for the dining cart.

At least, at the very least, he had been assigned a talent he actually liked. Making coffees and pastries and cakes and good things to eat and drink was a small luxury that the residents of Mountain Kalos could, at least, afford - he kept his prices low, he hired anyone who needed it, and paid well, and, honestly, he probably gave away more free items than he actually sold.

It probably didn't help much. It didn't exactly save the world in the long run. Still, at least he could brighten someone's day.

The coffees (and Shauna's hot chocolate) were ready by the time Olympia returned with the children, now changed out of their school uniforms and into something more tailored. Shauna tugged nervously at the hem of the pink shirt as she took a seat and accepted the hot chocolate, taking in the scent deeply.

"What happens now?" she asked quietly before taking a sip, her leg swinging again (Lysandre was beginning to recognise it as a nervous gesture). "I mean, after we go to Lumiose City?"

Gazing thoughtfully at his own coffee, he shook his head. "There is little to worry about for nearly a week. In Lumiose City, we will meet with the Mentors and Tributes from Central Kalos, and then take another train to the port in Coumarine. In Coumarine, we will meet with Coastal Kalos and board the ship that will take us to Unova. That will take us five days, and you will receive tutoring from all six mentors, and briefings on what to expect in the Capitol."

Trevor frowned. "So - wait, we're going to work with the others?" he asked uncertainly, "Aren't we meant to be enemies?"

"You will find that the others may be enemies, yes," Lysandre conceded, "Or, they may be the ones who will end up saving you. The Games are unpredictable. The only certainty is that, one day soon, you will find yourself in the Arena. And from then on..."

He found himself trailing off, his eyes falling shut.

"From then on," he told them with half a promise to himself, "Anything can happen."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Lumiose City was an experience.

Shauna stuck close to Trevor, wishing she didn't feel quite so provincial. Dendemille was hardly the middle of nowhere, but compared to Lumiose City, the busiest and most lively city in Kalos, it suddenly seemed backwards and parochial, and she found herself having to fight to keep her back straight and her head up.

She was a Tribute now. Everyone would be watching, and indeed, she could see camera flashes as she, Trevor, Lysandre, and Olympia waited in Gare de Lumiose for their companions and opponents. Silently, Shauna tried to stand up even straighter, hovering uncertainly beside Trevor.

They did not have to wait long. "Lysandre!" came a cheerful cry, and a dark-haired man flung himself bodily into her mentor's arms.

"Augustine," Lysandre murmured with a smile that softened his entire expression, wrapping his arms around the man's shoulders and pulling him close for a kiss. Shauna flushed suddenly, turning away and finding herself locking gazes with the two Central Kalosian tributes, both looking about as awkward as she felt.

She watched them carefully, a thoughtful frown on her lips. Both looked older (which, admittedly, wasn't that hard) and taller than both she and Trevor, the boy standing ramrod straight and otherwise unflappable if he hadn't looked quite so pallid, the girl's dark eyes cool and analytical as she watched them back.

Shauna swallowed, then took a few steps towards them. "Hi, I'm Shauna, and this is Trevor," she said with her most courageous smile, and the girl offered a smile back - more tentative than she would have expected, more uncertain.

"I'm Serena. He's Calem." She paused, then stretched out her hand, and Shauna blinked once before taking it and shaking it once. "I guess we'll be travelling together for a little while, huh?"

"Uh huh," Trevor finally said. "We're going to Coumarine this afternoon to meet Coastal Kalos, and then we're going right across the ocean."

The boy, Calem, nodded once. "I know, Drasna told us. She's one of our mentors," he added, gesturing to an older woman watching them with a pleasant smile. "And, uh, that's Augustine."

The man in question, who had finally broken away from Lysandre (although, Shauna noted, they certainly were holding on to each other's hand pretty tightly), gave them a bright smile. "Wonderful to meet you!" he told them cheerfully, "You must be Shauna and Trevor."

Shauna smiled back tentatively. He seemed friendly enough (and seemed to be... _very_ friendly with Lysandre), but the inescapable fact that he was mentoring other Tributes in a fight to the death against her really could not be ignored. He would want his own Tributes to win, of course; he would more than likely want her and Trevor dead.

"Well! Shall we proceed?" Olympia said suddenly, breaking the terse silence. "The train awaits us!"

Could she sense the tension in the air? Or did she just want to be away from the Peacekeepers stationed rather obviously at all the visible exits?

At any rate, boarding the train again was a relief. Drasna, the other Central Kalosian mentor, led them to one of the sitting rooms, with Olympia trailing behind them. Shauna found herself sitting opposite from Serena and gave her a cautious smile; the other girl smiled back, glancing up as Lysandre and Augustine finally joined them.

(They had not, she noted, let go of each other's hands, and in fact did not until they were seated, at which point Lysandre wrapped his arm around Augustine's shoulders anyway. The phrase 'consorting with the enemy' did flit briefly through Shauna's mind; still, she couldn't deny that they were kind of cute together.)

The train jolted once, and then began to pick up speed, the lights of the tunnel flickering past them as they made their way out of Lumiose City. Inside the car, there was silence, Shauna shifting uncomfortably in her chair as she stared awkwardly across at Serena and Calem.

They would have to fight to the death. Intellectually, she had known that since the morning, but it was only slowly sinking in that the girl across from her could quite possibly kill her, or, alternatively, die at her hands, or, perhaps, become a friend and an ally until they were both murdered by someone else. And at the end of the train ride, a much shorter one than the journey from Kiloude to Lumiose City, they would meet two more Tributes, two more competitors in a fight for their lives.

Shauna stood abruptly and silently walked to the observation lounge, watching the comforting darkness as they raced beneath the Kalosian badlands.

Coumarine was a relief and another new experience, the sharp saltiness in the breeze a curious contrast to someone who was so used to clean and fresh mountain air. She kept her head up and her eyes forward as they made their way from the train station to the port, simply breathing in sea air and trying hard not to think, not to dwell on her thoughts, just focusing on placing one foot and then the other forward.

This reverie was abruptly broken as they rounded the corner and found themselves facing the ship.

"Is all that for us?" she blurted out, staring at it with her mouth agape. Drasna chuckled.

"Not _just_ for us," she said with a smile. "There'll be a lot of others travelling to Unova as well - they've all paid a lot of money to be on the Tribute Ship!"

She was probably trying to be reassuring. Shauna simply sighed, allowing herself to be herded into place. They would be entering in order - first would be Coastal Kalos, officially designated as region seven to the Capitol, and then Central and then Mountain. The male Tribute first, then the female, then the male and then female Mentor, and she took her place after Trevor and in front of Lysandre.

This was the last time she would see Kalos.

This was the last time she would see Kalos, and her legs were shaking as the band outside started playing and they started moving forward. Briefly, Lysandre set a hand on her shoulder and squeezed once, and she shot a grateful look over her shoulder as she stepped out into the sunlight and started up the gangplank.

She wanted to go home.

 

The ship was definitely more roomy than the train.

Shauna had a room to herself, far more spacious than she had ever had before, the bed luxuriously soft and full of the latest commodities. For half an hour, she entertained herself with the television set, delighted to find a music player, and promptly discovered the food machine and ordered two whole pieces of cake - sweets were a rare commodity, and she ate until she was full.

The Capitol was five days away. If she couldn't enjoy herself before they sent her to her death, when would she be able to?

Eventually, changing into new clothes for the approaching evening, she set out, noting the name plates on the doors. Trevor's room was right next to hers, Serena and Calem's a little further on, and a few steps beyond theirs, the names Tierno and Korrina. The Coastal Kalos Tributes, she could only assume, and she wandered on until she had found her way to the foyer and the elevator, where Trevor was already deep in conversation with another boy she assumed was probably Tierno.

"Oh - Shauna!" Trevor called, waving her over. "This is Tierno - he's from Coastal. Tierno, this is Shauna, my region partner."

She gave the boy a smile. He seemed nice, with a broad grin. "Hi!"

He smiled back. "All right, Shaunee! Nice to meetcha! Trevs was just telling me about the others - have you met Korri or Val or G-man?"

Shauna blinked once. "...What?" she said hesitantly.

"Korrina, the other Coastal Tribute," Trevor supplied, "And their mentors, Valerie and Grant. Tierno likes nicknames." He heaved a sigh, but there was a a faint smile there, too.

"Oh. Right!" She grinned sheepishly, taking one of the other seats. "Sorry, Tierney, I haven't met them yet."

A grin spread across Tierno's face at the nickname, and he settled back, folding his hands behind his head. "Well, you'll meet 'em soon! Korri's really energetic, you'll probably really like her. Val's a bit weird, keeps talking about how she should have been a Pokemon or something. G-man's real cool - I think him and Val are together, she was sitting on his lap before."

Shauna flushed a little. Were _all_ the mentors going out with each other? "Uh huh - Lysandre, he's one of our mentors, I think he's with one of the mentors for Central."

"Is Lysandre the really tall guy with huge red hair?" Tierno queried, and Trevor nodded. "Oh, yeah. I saw him with the guy with the dark curly hair before. I guess it's nice, huh? Having someone like that."

Letting out a sigh, Shauna sat back. "I guess. But it's kind of weird, you know? Because we're all going to be competing against each other..." She shook her head. "It's okay if they're both from the same region, but what if that makes Lysandre favour Serena and Calem?"

"I don't think they would -" Tierno said dubiously, and Shauna cut him off.

"Mountain Kalos hasn't had a winner since - well, Lysandre was the last one. He's _never_ had a Tribute win."

The silence fell uneasily.

"Well," Tierno finally said uncomfortably, "I think we should go look around, yeah? They're gonna show us the other reapings in like half an hour. Might as well learn who our competitors are, right?"

Shauna followed quietly, taking in the ship's surrounds and the people around her. It was remarkably empty, save for the occasional glimpse of a Peacekeeper - did they think that Tributes were such a threat to required armed guard? - and yet painfully and ostentatiously luxurious, enough money going into the furnishings that it could have fed Dendemille for a month. This was a Capitol ship, all of the signs in Unovan, the Capitol's crest splashed over the walls and embroidered in the rugs, silk banners proclaiming that this was an official transport for the Fiftieth Annual Hunger Games.

The Hunger Games. A gladiatorial event meant to show that rebellion was useless and to remind them that the Capitol ruled their lives. The show of wealth here, now, a beautiful cage meant to carry children to their deaths, was one more example that the Capitol did not care about Kalosians dying in the street, all of their region's wealth going towards luxuries for the Capitolites.

She felt sick.

The Mentors, when they finally arrived in the briefing room, at least seemed to realise that they were out of sorts. Shauna settled on a chair between Trevor and Serena, noting the blonde girl talking to Valerie, who she vaguely recalled as winning eight years earlier (Korrina, she could only assume), and a man with gems in his hair who struck up a conversation with Tierno (vaguely recognisable as well, although she had only been six when Grant had won). There were others there, too - Wulfric, who she recognised from the Reaping, a woman around the same age as some of the other Mentors, and a girl that Shauna recognised as Emma, who had won just four years ago for Central Kalos.

They would all be returning to the Capitol, then - Victors, seeing it again and the place of their greatest triumphs; Tributes, all but one going to their deaths.

"Before we watch the recap," Augustine said suddenly as he stood, moving to the projector, "I'd like to remind you all of something. The kids you'll be facing - they're all in the same situation as you are. None of them want to be here, all of them want to survive. Please remember, _they are not your enemies_. I know their mentors will be telling them not to hate you because of something beyond your choice - please don't hate them, either."

Shauna bit down on her lip. It was easy for him to say - everyone he had gone into the Arena with was already dead.

The video started, as per tradition, with Kanto, with their mentors offering little tidbits about the others in the video. In Kanto, the boy who had been reaped, Red, had apparently grown up with their last winner from two years earlier; one of their mentors, they said, was the daughter of a past Victor as well, Koga nodding proudly at Janine as she took her place behind Red and Leaf.

In Johto, the girl who had been selected emerged on the stage crying, comforted by her mentor Kris. Lyra was only twelve, and no matter how Shauna felt about being selected, the twelve-year-olds were always the greatest tragedy. The boy, Ethan, gave her a sympathetic look; their mentor Morty swapped a glance with another victor, Eusine, who Lysandre mentioned was a 'close friend' to Morty. Clair, waiting next to Eusine, was also the cousin of Lance, the other Kanto mentor.

In Hoenn, the mentors groaned in dismay as a girl named May was called up, one of the mentors leaping to his feet and starting to scream at the announcer. "That's Norman - May is his daughter," Drasna said quietly with a glance at Augustine, who had fallen into a pensive silence, "Steven will take care of her as best he can, but - it's always hard." Liza smiled at May reassuringly; Brendan, the other tribute, glanced uncertainly back at his competitor.

Sinnoh's tributes were children as well, just twelve and thirteen years old. Dawn and Lucas clung to each other's hands, their mentors, Cynthia and Byron behind them; Grant explained that Byron and Koga would try to keep an eye on Norman, all knowing the pain of seeing their children selected for the Games. At least Janine had survived, though - Roark had not been so lucky.

In Eastern Unova, things got interesting. Everyone knew that one of the two mentors, N, was the son of President Harmonia - Eastern Unova, thus, had a reputation for having things done easily. Glancing across at her own mentors, Shauna was not so sure that they were that privileged - N's shoulders were slumped, watching sadly as a boy, Hilbert, was called up, starting as the boy's twin, Hilda, immediately volunteered as the female Tribute. She grabbed his hand, defiant and scowling, and Shauna had no doubt that she would lay down her life for him and vice versa.

Western Unova, where the last winner, Hugh, would be mentoring for the first time, had two teenagers from his own town, his eyes widening in dismay when both Rosa and Nate were called up. In an almost hushed voice, the announcer explained that all three were residents of Aspertia Town; all three had grown up together. Now, Hugh had survived and his friends faced death instead.

And then they moved on to Kalos, and Shauna watched with detached interest as they recapped Coastal, and then Central, and then finally Mountain. It was curious, watching how the mentors changed on screen - Lysandre on screen was bold, confident, held his head up high - but once they had boarded the train, his shoulders had slumped. And Augustine was definitely different - he flirted with the crowd, he gestured widely and excitably, and Shauna could not quite reconcile him with the rather quieter man who held on to Lysandre's hand so tightly, resting his head on his shoulder as if it was too much effort to keep it upright. Friendly, yes - but definitely not the outgoing flirt he projected in public.

They retreated, and Shauna settled down with a sigh, a little more comfortable with the other Tributes now that she knew that they were all in precisely the same situation. "What do you think of them?" Calem asked immediately as he took a seat, tucking one leg beneath the other, "The guy from Kanto looks tough. And the Eastern Unova twins."

"What about the girls from Johto and Sinnoh?" Serena added quietly. "They're both only twelve, it's - that's not right, they're only little kids, they're not even teenagers..."

"I couldn't kill them," Shauna said suddenly. "Not after that. I mean -" She looked around at the loose circle, peering at each Tribute thoughtfully. "If you saw Lyra in the Arena, and she was crying like she was at the reaping, could you kill her?"

Every single one of her fellow Tributes shook their heads.

"How do the Mentors _do_ this without getting completely depressed?" Korrina sighed, tossing back her long blonde ponytail. "I couldn't do it! Do you know how many kids they must have seen die? Every single year, seventeen of us die, and some of the mentors have been doing this since forever!"

Shauna thought back to how tightly Augustine and Lysandre clung to each other, and shook her head. "I'm not sure they do," she said quietly, and sighed. "What do you think of them? The Mentors, I mean."

"Drasna's really cool," Serena volunteered with a tired smile. "I mean, she's like - the kind of person I'd want to grow up to be like. If, well, I get to grow up."

There was a nasty pause.

"Augustine's pretty different to how I expected," she added hastily, frowning a little. "I mean, he seems really nice, but he sort of has a... reputation, I guess, that's he's kind of... um... well, they say he has a _lot_ of lovers in the Capitol and that he's kind of, uh, slutty."

Shauna winced. "But he seems like he's really close to Lysandre," she pointed out, "I don't think he's like... sleeping around or anything... I think they really like each other."

"Lysandre's pretty scary," Korrina pointed out. "I wouldn't want to cheat on him, I'd be too scared."

"No he's not, he's really nice!" she immediately protested, leaning back on her hands, suddenly eager to defend the mentor who had tried to reassure her so many times already today.

Tierno sighed, then got to his feet. "I guess people act pretty different in the Capitol, right?" he said with his best attempt at a grin, "Come on. It's nearly time for dinner. If they're going to kill us, at least they can give us some good meals first."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"Land legs," Serena muttered as she took her first steps on Capitol soil, the sudden stillness a shock after the constant motion of the ship. Nearby, Shauna was wincing and treading carefully as well; the mentors and other victors, much to her mild irritation, seemed to show no such discomfort.

They would visit the Capitol every year, wouldn't they? No wonder they were used to it, no wonder their eyes weren't widening in amazement at the skyscrapers towering overhead. Castelia City was the Capitol's capital, and it was here that they would be trained, housed, and prepared for the Games starting in a handful of days.

From the ship, they were ushered straight into another train, this one immediately dipping below the surface as it rushed along almost silently. "We'll be heading to the Remake Centre," Drasna explained to them gently, "They'll get you looking your best for the Opening Ceremony this afternoon, and then there'll be a dinner for all of the Tributes at the Training Centre Apartments. Then, tomorrow, you'll start training - that'll go for three days, with the Gamemaker Assessments on the afternoon of the third day. On day four, you can relax for the day, because that evening is the interview show."

She paused, and Serena quietly provided, "And then, on day five, we'll be sent into the Arena to die." She huffed a sigh, her bangs ruffling. "Great. I hope everyone enjoys the next four and a half days, because I guess for most of us, they'll be our last."

Shauna gave her an unhappy look, and Serena immediately felt contrite. This entire situation was horrible enough - it didn't mean she had the right to make her fellow Tributes miserable, too.

At least the Remake Centre was enough of a distraction. Serena was rushed from the train to an individual cubicle, where she was instructed to shower in the adjoining bathroom and return in the flimsy gown provided. Hot water was a luxury that she had sometimes had to forgo when rolling blackouts struck Vaniville, and she allowed herself longer than she normally would in there, experimenting with the different settings and shampoos to her heart's content. Then, her hair dripping wet but her body mostly dried from the vents on the floor, she dressed again, stepping out into her own little salon.

It was actually rather nice, being pampered, having her hair brushed smooth and sleek, her nails trimmed and buffed and painted a metallic gold. (Granted, she could have done without the extensive waxing.) Central Kalos' theme this year was, apparently, glitz and glamour - the make-up they painted on her was glittery and gold as well, and she held up her hands to examine the effect of golden nail polish against dark skin, watched as they swept her hair up and wrapped gold chains around the locks.

Next, she was handed off to her stylist, who dressed her in a sleek gold sheath that glistened with every movement. Serena could not resist giving a little twirl to examine the play of light off the metallic thread - the light bounced and flickered, and she stared at her own reflection in some fascination.

They may have been sending her to her death, but at least she looked damn good.

"Now, a couple of injections," her stylist murmured, pushing up her skirt and injecting something into her thigh. "This one is to stop hair growth - we wouldn't want all that waxing to go to waste, would we?"She winked, pressing a bit of cotton against Serena's leg. "All the boys get those, too - there's a big difference between some fresh-faced teenager and a hairy, scruffy lout. And this one is to stop your cycles!"

"Right," Serena said dryly, "The only blood they want to see is for when we kill each other, I guess?"

"Right!" the stylist repeated cheerfully, and Serena resisted the urge to bite down on her lip in frustration and anger (if nothing else, she would ruin her lipstick).

Waiting for her outside was Drasna. She repeated this cynical assessment, and Drasna nodded in understanding. "It's rather hypocritical, isn't it?" she sighed. "Still, it _is_ best to avoid anything that could cause further discomfort - the Arena is difficult enough." Grinning conspiratorially, she leaned in, adding, "And all of the mentors get those too. We're interviewed all the time, and there's often not a lot of time for careful shaving. All these grown men, unable to grow a single hair once everything is trimmed..."

Serena managed a smile, but only just.

Drasna smiled back sympathetically, setting a hand lightly between Serena's shoulder blades to guide her down the hall. "Now, the Opening Ceremony! Remember, Central Kalos is region eight - you'll find the chariot in the painted-off section with the right number. There's no markings on the chariots themselves, so mind you don't get in the wrong one! There'll be a _lot_ of people out there - I think, for you and Calem, you should keep your eyes straight ahead and barely acknowledge the crowd. The Capitol loves someone going stoically to the Arena, it makes them feel -" She paused. "Powerful."

Her tone was light, but her expression unhappy, and Serena gazed at her curiously before nodding once. It had been five days on the ship - and five days was enough to learn that most of the victors did not think highly of the Capitol at all.

It was at least some small relief. At least they weren't gleefully sending them to their deaths.

Serena remembered little of the Opening Ceremony itself - just the motion of the chariot, Calem standing stiffly and nervously behind her, the chill of late autumn air against her bare arms, the scream of the crowds, like white noise.

She remembered President Harmonia watching over them like a hawk, she remembered straining to catch a glimpse of Drasna or Augustine in the victor stands, she remembered catching Shauna's eye as the chariots drew together and managing a smile. And she remembered the profound sense of relief as they started moving again, drawing up to the Training Centre Apartments.

Now, they could relax.

When Drasna had said there would be a dinner for the Tributes, she had meant precisely, literally that. Ushered into the building, their mentors pointed out the features - the shared dining hall and private dining rooms, the suites for each region and the rooms they had been assigned, and the roof, shielded by a forcefield but a calm oasis out in fresh air.

And then they were left to their own devices, allowed to change into more comfortable clothes, scrub the make-up and paint off, and become something more resembling human, waited on by silent attendees in white who gestured the correct way to the dining hall where a feast laid waiting for them. The victors, they had been told, would be attending a separate party, glitzy and glamorous - tonight, the Tributes would be on their own.

It was somewhat akin to a raucous slumber party, and Serena, in comfortable jeans and a hoodie with her feet bare, allowed herself to relax for the first time since they had arrived in the Capitol.

Let them have this. Let them have the aspiration of luxury and comfort drive them onwards. And let them make the most of what could be the rest of their lives.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Implied/off-screen forced prostitution.

**Chapter Four**

It was far too early when Augustine woke up, but he knew instantly that he would not be getting back to sleep any time soon.

Scrubbing the sweat and tears off his clammy face with one arm, he let out a thin groan, curling closer to Lysandre. Nightmares were a regretful fact of life, and he resigned himself to wakefulness, to being chased by shadows out of the corners of his eyes for the rest of the day. They always did, the night after one of the Capitol's parties, and he sighed against Lysandre's skin. It would be a long few weeks before he could escape back to Kalos.

At least he had Lysandre with him, even if it wasn't exactly something he wanted his lover to go through as well.

"Another nightmare?" Lysandre murmured, and Augustine started - he hadn't realised that Lysandre was awake yet.

"The usual," he murmured, sighing as he felt Lysandre's fingers card through his damp hair. "Are you doing okay?"

Lysandre sighed, the puff of air ruffling Augustine's hair. "As well as to be expected, I suppose." Gently, he deposited a kiss on Augustine's temple. "I'm going to shower. Do you want to come with me, or try to sleep?"

"Sleep, I suppose," he murmured, feeling the bed shift as Lysandre stood, padding silently to the bathroom. And then he rolled on to his back, gazing up at the ceiling, trying to calm his frenetic heartbeat and to unclench his hands.

Hands reaching for him, tugging and pulling at his limbs, grasping his hair, pulling him apart... Augustine shuddered and swung his legs out of bed abruptly, reaching for the window controls to program a view of Lumiose City at dawn.

He was luckier than most. He had a home to return to, unlike most of the kids he knew were resting ahead of the first day of training. And he had his friends, Diantha and Steven and Hiroshi and all of his fellow victors. And he had Lysandre. No matter what happened, he had Lysandre.

And that was the single best thing the Capitol had ever given him.

He had his mask back on by the time the breakfast bell rang. Fully dressed, happily caffeinated (even the if the machine's coffee wasn't nearly as good as Lysandre's own), and with no engagements until the evening, he stole a quick kiss from Lysandre before setting out, nodding pleasantly at the sleepy-looking Tributes wandering towards the dining hall like little lost Duckletts. Serena was one of them; she caught his eye and smiled tiredly.

"Hi, Augustine. How was your party last night?" she asked him in a carefully neutral voice, and a flash of indecision crossed his face - no doubt she thought it was some bacchanalian festival full of feasting and decadence.

She was, unfortunately, correct.

"Glamorous as always," he managed to say back just as neutrally, even managing a smile. "I hear you and the others were up pretty late, too!"

"Yeah - maybe, if I win, I'll get to see some of that glamour myself."

Keeping the smile frozen on his face, he made a non-committal sound. _I hope you die in the Arena,_ he thought instead, _I hope you die quickly and painlessly, because, oh Arceus, it would be better than what they will do to you if you win._

"Perhaps!" he said cheerily, "If you will excuse me."

He hated this.

He hated this, and it had to end, it could not continue with dozens and dozens of children dying at each other's hands or at the whims of the Gamemakers. He hated this, and he longed to cut the strings that tied him irrevocably to the Capitol, jerked around and controlled like a puppet. He hated this, and now things had to change, and perhaps, perhaps, perhaps this year they could finally end things.

Perhaps, this year, they would all make it out alive.

Breakfast was a noisy affair, and he had to raise his voice just to be heard across the table. Around them flitted Avoxes, as silent as ghosts, their heads bowed against the noise, and he offered smiles when he could, gave thanks and showed his gratitude.

They were on the same side, weren't they?

"Hey, Augustine?" Serena asked quietly, almost unheard over the din, although Shauna raised her head to listen in interest as well. "The people that are helping out - who are they? I tried to ask one what they recommended and they didn't answer."

"Avoxes," he murmured once the one refilling his coffee moved away. "They're..." He winced a little. "They're people who have been punished by the Capitol. Most of them have committed crimes against it... rebels, or dissidents... people who tried to stand up against the might of the Capitol and were captured and punished for it. They're forced to work as servants, and they've had their tongues cut out so they can't speak."

Shauna's eyes widened and she clasped her hands over her mouth, either in horror or to protect her own tongue.

"That's _vile_ ," Serena whispered shakily, and Augustine nodded glumly.

"It's not wise to speak out against the Capitol. They have monitoring devices all over the place - if you're foolish enough to go against their might and will, you get what's coming to you." He gave both the girls a pointed look, and Serena swallowed visibly - she had, it seemed, got the message that they could not speak freely, that he had to continue the pretence of unwavering support for the Capitol and everything it stood for.

It grated, yes. But he could not let these girls suffer like the Avoxes suffered, could not let them be mutilated, to have their voices stolen for the simple act of speaking out against injustice. The life of an Avox meant a constant punishment for raising their voices, a reminder with every tortured swallow, every strangled utterance.

"Right!" came a single ringing shout from further down the table, and Augustine was torn from his dark thoughts by the sight of Steven clambering up on to his chair. "Alright, Tributes, listen up! Once you're done, we'll be taking you into the Training Centre - you'll find uniforms waiting for you. There, you'll find stations - some have tutors and some are self-taught, and there's a mix of weapon skills and survival skills. Teach yourself anything you can. Don't discount the survival skills, they are literally the difference between life and death!"

Drasna, closer at hand, stood as well. "We'll be close at hand on the observation deck if you need any of us," she called out, "If you want anyone, just ask one of the trainers. This is also a great time to get to know each other and to start forming your alliances! You won't be able to fight each other directly, use the trainers for that, but keep an eye out for anyone you think would be a good ally in the Arena. Every little bit of help could save your lives."

"Sounds good. You should write speeches some day if you ever get sick of dragons," Augustine murmured to her as she took a seat again, and she reached out to ruffle his hair.

"Don't be cheeky, nephew," she grinned, finishing off her tea. "As if I would ever get sick of dragons." Her expression softened a little. "How are you?"

Augustine shrugged, shaking off the memory of hands ghosting over his skin. "As well as can be expected," he murmured, and she smiled back sympathetically.

It was never easy. But it was bearable, because it had to be.

The Training Centre would be a good distraction, though. He and Lysandre found a seat in the observation deck, and he settled against him, soaking in the warmth that radiated even through his clothing. "What do you think?" he murmured, gesturing both to the large window and to the view screen before them, different cameras showing the different stations.

"I think they have a chance this year," Lysandre conceded, dropping his voice and leaning close in the pretence of kissing Augustine's cheek. "We just might get them all out alive. They'll just need to survive for a little while." Straightening up, he added out loud for the benefit of the microphones, "Actually, Augustine, I think your two have a real fighting chance this year."

Augustine let out a thoughtful noise. "They're not bad," he agreed, then pointed out, "Although your girl seems to be pretty adept with the survival stations."

"It's an interesting mix of skills." Lysandre gazed down at the bustling activity, his lips curved in a frown. "Very interesting. If they form alliances, they could be a pretty potent threat to the others."

"That would be a good way to go," he agreed, leaning back against Lysandre's side. "We'll just have to see if they'll be willing to trust each other."

There were too many secrets and lies, too much doublespeak and misdirection. The minute Augustine he could do so, he was going to tell President Harmonia exactly what he could do to himself.

At least it would give him a few moments of satisfaction before they dragged him out to be shot, he thought grimly, and shook his head.

He had to trust the tributes, he had to trust his friends. He had to trust, and then they would be okay.

 

"Ready?" Lysandre sighed as evening drew near, the window actually showing the window for once and showing the city sky streaked red and gold. The frosty counterpart to the burning sky, he and Lysandre were clad in white and silver and blue, and he knew that half a dozen others were dressed in the same. A winter party - he shuddered, not liking the potentials for what they could do to him, hating how flimsy the provided clothes were.

Well. It wasn't as if he'd be wearing them for long.

"I'm never ready," he admitted, and Lysandre tugged him closer for a kiss, squeezing his hands reassuringly.

"I'll be there," he promised.

Augustine closed his eyes. "That almost makes it worse."

Hand in hand, they departed, managing to leave the apartments unaccosted. The party would be in the neighbouring block, and the shuttle between the two carried them there far quicker than he would have liked, depositing them in front of the building, a hideously ostentatious so-called marvel of modern art.

"Augustine! Augustine Sycamore?" a voice called, and he started violently.

A Capitol resident - for it had to be a Capitol resident, no one else had skin dyed violet and hair fashioned into the shape of a giant Butterfree - hurried up, grinning in a way that showed that her teeth had been capped in silver. "I'm a big fan," she said breathlessly, and then paused, giving him a blatant once-over. "Look, some time tonight - I'd like to get to know you, I have this great apartment with a _huge_ bed -"

Augustine drew a little closer to Lysandre, glancing up at him uncertainly before turning back to the woman. "Ah - I'm very sorry," he managed, nerves making the Kalosian accent show up more through his Unovan, "I already have plans for this evening..."

"What about tomorrow?"

"Er, the same -"

She gave an exaggerated sigh. "And let me guess, you're booked solid every night up to the Games."

"...Yes."

She snarled, and the silver-capped teeth flashed in the last light of the day. "Fine," she said sourly, "Maybe next visit." And she turned to walk away, lifting her head just enough for him to hear the stage whisper of, "Whore."

Augustine had just enough time to grab Lysandre's wrist before his fist met the woman's face, squeezing hard and giving him a warning stare. " _Don't_ ," he choked out, "Don't."

"She has no idea!" Lysandre snarled quietly, balling his hands in and out of fists but his temper back under control. "She has _no idea_ what we have to go through - what they do to us - and she _dares_ to call you a whore, she has no _idea_ -"

"She doesn't," he said quietly, "And I want to keep it that way." Tiredly, he managed a smile, rising up on his toes to kiss Lysandre soothingly. "Let's get this over and done with, shall we?"

Lysandre let his breath out slowly, his eyes falling shut. "Fine," he whispered, "Fine."

Still holding hands, squeezing hard to keep a hold of each other, they walked in to their hell.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"She can't fight at all."

Reaching out to pat Lysandre's arm, Augustine gave him a sympathetic smile. Lysandre merely sighed in response, extending his arm, immediately finding himself with a warm lover curled at his side. "Maybe she'll be one of the ones that hide?" Augustine pointed out, "We can't all be combatants - and she may be a good trainer, too."

"Possibly," Lysandre sighed, cringing as Shauna's knife went way off aim, clattering somewhere in the empty space behind the targets. "Certainly we should keep her away from any projectiles. You should have seen her attempts with a bow."

"Duly noted." Chuckling a little, Augustine sat back. "Did you see her in the trapping station, though? She's very good with them - and she works wonderfully with food identification, too. She's very observant. She may be the survivalist type."

Lysandre gave him a sidelong glance, frowning thoughtfully. He remembered the Games Augustine had won, remembered how the then-seventeen-year-old had managed to survive using his wits and his instincts. If Shauna could do the same thing, she would be in with a chance - and in the long run, survival skills would be of far more use for this particular year.

"Trevor is rather clever, too," he added thoughtfully. "He and Shauna worked together to rig up a snare to grab hold of a pursuer. I think my two will be the kind to stay hidden - provided they survive the Cornucopia bloodbath."

Augustine winced, and Lysandre gave his hand a quick, apologetic squeeze.

"How are your two?" he asked instead, searching out Serena and Calem amidst the crowd of Tributes. There they were - Serena was puzzling over the rope station, Calem hefting an axe thoughtfully before striking one of the dummies provided for that purpose. (A non-fatal strike, he noted, but a disabling one.) "Calem seems to be an adept fighter."

With a frown on his face, Augustine watched as Serena dropped her mangled rope in disappointment. "So is Serena," he murmured, then shook his head. "But survival skills don't seem to be their best points - it would be good to match them with your two."

"They might be a formidable combination," Lysandre agreed. "It just might keep them alive."

"Maybe," Augustine murmured, then straightened up, offering his hand to Lysandre to give him a hand up. "It's nearly time for lunch. At least this afternoon will be pleasant." He was smiling, a more genuine smile that softened the sadness in his eyes, and Lysandre found himself smiling back instinctively.

"It will indeed. And Espoir and Artemis will enjoy the chance to move freely."

"If Espoir doesn't destroy another table," Augustine grinned, and Lysandre chuckled.

At least this would be a pleasant diversion - and it would be worth it, just to see the look on the Tributes' faces.

It wasn't every day that one got their first Pokemon, after all, was it?

 

"So, after lunch," Lysandre called out to the group (just Central and Mountain Kalos today, Coastal eating with the Unovans for lunch), "You will be getting your first great asset for when you're in the Arena."

There was a sudden ripple of excitement, Shauna nudging Trevor hard, Serena glancing up with eyes wide. "Pokemon?" Calem blurted out, suddenly looking far more like the teenage boy Lysandre knew he was instead of the image of the stoic Tribute he tried to project. "We get a Pokemon, right?"

"You do!" grinned Augustine, and detached the red and white sphere from his belt, tapping it to release it to its full size. "Tributes are allowed to take one Pokemon in to the Arena with them - generally a fairly low-levelled one, but there's some powerful ones there as well. There are also Pokemon you can catch inside, if you're able to get Poke Balls at the Cornucopia or from your sponsors - some of them can be pretty powerful, and if it's an actual Pokemon and not a muttation -" Only with long practice did Lysandre see the flicker of disgust on Augustine's face at the sheer concept of the mutated Pokemon - "Then they'll become your best chance of victory. Most winners rely heavily on their Pokemon - the bond between you and them is almost as important as their actual combat skills!"

Lysandre forced the fond smile off his face - Augustine really should have been a Pokemon scientist. When he had won, he had been luckier than most - the Talent he was allowed to pursue was to go to university and study the creatures he so adored. Perhaps, in another world, had he not been shoved head first and flailing into the life of a Victor, he would be a true expert in Pokemon, waking up eager to study and learn new things rather than waking up after nightmares and full of dread for whatever the Capitol required of him next.

Still. He had Artemis, and Lysandre had Espoir. That was some minor consolation.

"How many can we have?" Trevor asked curiously, the forkful of pasta forgotten in his hand. "I mean, if we get a whole lot of Poke Balls - could we get a whole _team_?"

Shaking his head, Lysandre sat back. "You can have as many as you want in the Arena," he clarified, "But should you win, you may only keep one. Most keep their starters, if they manage to survive -" There was a brief flash of horror across the faces of the Tributes - "And some keep others. I was separated from my starter, a Litleo, in the Arena - but I was fortunate enough to catch a Magikarp soon afterwards."

"A _Magikarp_?" Calem asked scornfully, "I guess you could cook them if you were starving, but aren't they basically, well, useless? "

Lysandre grinned darkly. "Not when they're only a single battle away from evolving into this," he said, and released Espoir from his ball.

To Calem's credit, at least, he did not scream at the sudden appearance of twenty-one feet of sea serpent, even if he go so suddenly white that Lysandre was concerned he was in grave danger of fainting.

"Espoir helped Lysandre win, actually," Augustine said casually, reaching up to scratch the Gyarados behind his horns and getting a friendly (and gentle) headbutt in return. "A first evolution may seem pretty useless, but Pokemon _evolve_. The starters you'll be getting will be pretty close to evolution, for the most part. Try not to discount something just because it's weak at first!"

"Right. Sorry," Calem murmured sheepishly, and Augustine gave him a reassuring smile in response.

The meal ended quickly - the Tributes, he could sense, were eager to get their new starters, and with good reason. Pokemon training (as far as Lysandre understood) had been widespread before the war, and some of the older members of the community still had fond memories of the journeys they had gone on. Now, it was a tightly regulated industry, with no member under the age of nineteen able to possess a Pokemon for fear that it would be used to escape the Games. And with the daily struggle for mere survival in the regions, who honestly now had time to become trainers?

And so becoming a Tribute was the one iron-clad way to get a Pokemon. Assuming, of course, that they survived long enough to keep that one.

"Would you like to see some Kalosian natives?" Augustine asked cheerfully as they arrived in the Pokemon Hall, "We have starters from all of the regions, but these three are some of my favourites! There's Chespin - Grass and will eventually get Fighting, a formidable battler - Fennekin, a Fire-type, very useful for keeping warm _and_ they'll become Psychic with their final evolution, and finally Froakie - a Water type is invaluable, and its final evolution is fast and also gains Dark. Which means they'll have a built-in immunity to any psychic attacks!"

"What did you start with?" Serena asked curiously, peering at the array of Poke Balls with interest.

He smiled. "A Gible, actually!" A flash of light, and Artemis emerged from her ball, the Garchomp blinking at her sudden emergence. "This is Artemis - she's been one of my constant companions for nineteen years now."

Shauna squeaked in alarm, and Artemis gently petted the girl's head. She froze, her eyes huge.

Lysandre chuckled. "Artemis is very gentle," he reassured her, "Much like Espoir, honestly. Appearance does not necessarily dictate temperament - you may find something soft and fluffy that is the fiercest battler in the Arena."

Serena grinned fiercely. "In that case, I choose Fennekin. And setting things on fire should be pretty useful, right?"

Carefully, Lysandre made a mental note to keep flammable objects well away from Serena.

"Then I'll take Froakie," Calem nodded. "If we have water and fire, that's a good combination."

"It is!" Augustine nodded, "Just mind that you don't overwork your Froakie. They're still young."

Shauna pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Do you want the Chespin, Trevor?" she offered - with, Lysandre couldn't help but note, a hint of reluctance. "There's a lot of us from Kalos, but I bet I can get something else..."

Shaking his head, the boy picked up the Poke Ball and handed it to Shauna. "No, I want something different - a Pikachu, if I can get one. You can keep this one, Shauna!"

She smiled gratefully, clutching the Poke Ball to her chest. "Thanks."

"Well, then!" Augustine exclaimed. "Trevor, my lad, you will definitely get that Pikachu you want! Go and talk to the older man standing at that table, he has Kanto natives. Then - once you're back, I'll teach you all the basics of Pokemon battling!"

With a delighted smile, Trevor hurried off to claim his Pikachu, and Augustine let his hands drop. "At least this will be fun, right?" he told Lysandre with a smile, and Lysandre smiled back in pure reflex to the relaxation and peace on his lover's face. It was an expression he wished he could see more of, an expression the Capitol tried to steal from him, and moments like these were precious. They were not to be wasted.

"It should be a very nice afternoon," Lysandre murmured back, and Artemis the Garchomp dropped her head on top of Augustine's and huffed happily.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Contemplated suicide, discussion of starvation, poverty, and sacrifice.

**Chapter Six**

It was deceptively quiet in the Capitol.

Serena had always assumed that the Capitol would be bustling and full of energy and noise, partying and life, and perhaps it was. Certainly she could see lights in the buildings and the streets whenever she switched the window screen from a peaceful ocean view to see what was actually outside, but perhaps it was the thick windows that prevented any sound from reaching her room.

And that meant she had nothing to distract her from her thoughts, other than the small, furry body curled up against her stomach, her new Fennekin whuffling gently in his sleep.

"Hey, Renard?" she whispered to the little thing, and the Fennekin flicked an ear tiredly at the interruption. "I really need some air. Do you want to come with me to the roof?"

If nothing else, having the Fennekin curled up in her arms _would_ keep her warmer.

He made an agreeable sound and she scooped him up, pulling on a belt just to have something to clip his Poke Ball on to. Then, with the little Fire type in her arms, she padded silently to the elevators, sparing a glance at the door to Calem's room, and then the two to the mentors', as she passed.

Perhaps Calem would want to come with her, talk over everything bothering the two of them - or perhaps he would be better off sleeping as an escape for their almost inevitable deaths, only days away.

The night air on the roof was a shock to the system, a sudden chill that the Training Centre Apartments apparently insulated them from completely. So too was the sound she had expected - the Capitol _was_ , in fact, bustling and full of energy and noise, partying and life, and now, with only a forcefield as a barrier, she could hear every sound.

The forcefield. One of the other Tributes (the girl from Eastern Unova, she recalled vaguely, the one who had volunteered to help protect her brother) had mentioned that it was meant to stop them from jumping to their deaths before the Games. And here was another horrifying thought - that meant that it had probably happened at least once before.

She couldn't entirely blame them. Serena had grown up watching the Hunger Games on television, they all had. They all knew precisely what horrors the Arena held, and she was giving some serious consideration to simply stepping off the plate early, to activate the mines and have a quick and hopefully painless death instead of the prolonged torture that would follow.

Serena pulled a face. A week ago, she was definitely not contemplating suicide. She was seventeen, she had believed that she had only had to escape two more Reapings, she was almost in the clear...

And now she was standing in the Capitol, on the roof of the Training Centre Apartments, carefully considering the quickest way to die.

And also, she was not alone.

She hadn't seen the other girl at first - she had been sitting back against the wall, eyes closed and legs drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them loosely. There was an agonised expression on Shauna's face, pain kept bottled up and forced away during the day but allowed to show freely now, and Serena briefly considered leaving her be.

Their Pokemon made the decision for them. Shauna's Chespin, sensing another, had perked up and wriggled off Shauna's lap, trotting over to greet Renard, and the Fennekin had jumped down nimbly to bump their heads together.

"Fariha?" Shauna blinked, puzzling at the two Pokemon and then looking up at Serena. "Oh! Hi, Serena, I was just -" She waved a hand, the words apparently not coming. "Um - thinking, I guess."

"Same here," Serena said sheepishly, "Can I sit with you? I can't sleep."

Shauna nodded once, sliding over a little and patting the floor next to her. "The Gamemakers are assessing us tomorrow," she said suddenly, then closed her eyes. "Well, I guess it's today now. Do you know what you're going to do for it?"

Shaking her head, Serena took the offered seat. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "I'm going to ask Drasna and Augustine what they think I'd be best at. Maybe one of the fighting ones, but I really want to try the Pokemon battle one, you get your starter to fight all these holographic enemies. We're pretty good so far -" Renard gave an affirmative yip in agreement - "Aside from Water types. If they flood the field, I'm not sure what to do."

"You're good at that, I was watching you fight in the Training Centre this afternoon. And I bet you'll think of something," Shauna agreed, then smiled wryly. "I'm not that good at any of them. Lysandre thinks I should do a survival one - like, the plant identification one. I know what he's thinking, though - he's thinking that I'm not a good fighter and I should try to hide. But that won't get sponsors or anything, will it?"

"If you're good enough at finding your own food and shelter, you don't _need_ sponsors," Serena pointed out. "We can stick together - your Chespin can help us identify plants, and Renard can start fires so we can cook - and we can get Calem and Trevor as well, Calem's Froakie can help us with water and Trevor's Pikachu will be good for defence..."

With a soft sigh, Shauna dropped her head to Serena's shoulder; Serena started for a moment before tilting her own head against the other girl's, enjoying the simple contact for now. "I guess," she said softly, then forced a smile on her face. "I guess so! You guys are all amazing, I know we can survive if we just stick together!"

"What if we're the last ones standing?" Serena blurted out, and Shauna lifted her head to stare at her uncertainly. "Shauna, what if it comes down to you and me? I couldn't kill you. I don't think I could kill anyone! But what if it does end up just being us? The Gamemakers would never let us both win, even if we refused to fight each other."

The silence fell awkwardly, and Shauna set her head back down on Serena's shoulder again, the warmth of her body seeping into Serena's. "I think you should win," she said softly. "And I think you _can_ win - you're good, you're really good. And I don't really... need to, I guess. I don't really - have any family or anything. No one would miss me. And anyway, Mountain Kalos is mostly okay, we're poor but everyone sticks together. But I heard that Lumiose City has a lot of homeless kids, and they'd all really like the food that you'd be able to get them."

Guilt curdled hard and cold in Serena's stomach. While she had been enjoying the riches of the Capitol and calmly contemplating the quickest way to kill herself, people back in Kalos were starving. If she won, if she _or_ Calem won, then they would get a year's supply of food and, most likely, save countless lives.

And all she had to do was wait for other children like Shauna or Trevor or the twelve-year-olds from Johto and Sinnoh to die in her place.

What right did she have? They would be sacrificing the lives of some for others, no matter what happened - and the other regions would go hungry in the mean time. Was Lumiose City really so important compared to Goldenrod or Sunyshore?

"Mountain Kalos hasn't won in nearly twenty years," she countered softly. "Central won four years ago, and everyone _knows_ about the homeless kids, Emma's made sure of that. Isn't it time that you guys had some of the riches?"

"And what about Coastal? Or Sinnoh? It's been even longer since Sinnoh won! Shouldn't we be trying to let Dawn and Lucas win? And besides, they're only babies!" Shauna set her jaw stubbornly, folding her arms even as she continued to lean against Serena.

Serena frowned deeply, more in slow realisation than disagreement. "We can't all win," she choked. "That's the point. We all have to have the right motivation to win, because trying to lose is - I guess it's selfish, because it makes our own districts suffer. But if we _do_ try to win, then the other districts suffer! And it's all because - because -" Her voice became strangled and choked; she fell silent.

"It's all because of the Capitol," Shauna whispered against her hair, just soft enough that any cameras wouldn't pick it up. "It's because they take everything from us. I think... I think the rebels are right. The Capitol needs to be stopped."

Serena sucked in her breath, drawing back a little, glancing around in sudden paranoia. "What did you want to be when you grew up?" she blurted out, giving Shauna a pained look.

She agreed. That was the worst part, she agreed entirely. But to say such a thing in the Capitol itself seemed to be the height of danger and foolishness, even whispered, even in the softest words imaginable, and suddenly she was terrified for Shauna.

"I - what?" Shauna blinked, and then her expression shifted, a mask pulled over the genuine grim determination in her eyes, written over by something harmless and more innocent. "Oh - um - I'm not really sure, honestly! I always thought it would be fun just... travelling and seeing the world and experiencing new things." She smiled wryly. "At least I got to see the Capitol! Right? That's definitely an experience! I wanted to make memories, and now I'll remember it always - no matter how long that is."

And there was just the slightest hint of a threat in those last words. If she won, if Shauna was the Victor at the end of the Games, she would remember what the Capitol had done to them all. Always.

Serena hoped she would win. Shauna could fight. She cared, she looked for ways to help them all. She did not sit there and contemplate how easy it would be to blow herself to pieces.

What kind of a Tribute was she? She was already resigning herself to death - and yet, for her to win, seventeen others would die. Perhaps more, to starvation or to freezing winters in the other regions without the desperately needed supplies that a Victor would bring.

No matter what happened, people would die. No matter who won, the rest of them would be going home in coffins, and their regions would go hungry.

The Hunger Games. No wonder the Capitol lapped it up - they had never been hungry in their lives. To them, celebrity was everything and the fates of the regions, most so far away and Eastern and Western Unova probably in better shape than most others, was something to be kept out of sight and out of mind. They must have thought that being selected as a Tribute was the highest honour, and not a death sentence, not just for them but for every other region.

If she won, she would join the rebellion, too.

(And now she began to wonder. The mere existence of the rebellion was suppressed and hidden, but there were always rumours, always whispers in the regions. How many of their mentors were members or supporters of the rebellion? Were Drasna and Augustine members? Or Lysandre and Olympia? Perhaps Steven, perhaps Cynthia, perhaps even the President's son? She longed to ask, and yet something told her that that was not the wisest of ideas.)

"We should get some sleep," she finally said reluctantly, pushing herself to her feet and offering Shauna her hand. "Tomorrow, we'll be assessed. We'll need to be alert for that."

"Yeah, okay," Shauna sighed, standing and then bending down to scoop up her Chespin, starting for the elevator. "Come on, Fariha, let's go back to bed."

"See you at breakfast," Serena managed to smile as the elevator stopped at the floor for Mountain Kalos, and Shauna flashed her a smile back.

Serena went to sleep that night knowing she was not alone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

For perhaps the third time in five minutes, Shauna wiped her clammy palms on the legs of her training uniform and tried to take deep breaths.

The Gamemaker assessment was the end of training - there would be no more practice, no more familiarising herself with weapons and the environment, no more battling with Fariha. Not until they got into the Arena - and that was, most definitely, a trial by fire.

Perhaps literally. Who knew what form the Arena would take this year? The year before, it had been a vast grassy meadow with no trees or anything to form shelter - fine during sunshine, not so pleasant when it started storming violently (the lightning was not at all a good thing when a standing human was the tallest thing around). The year before that, it had been an ocean, dotted with sandy islands surrounded by warm tropical seas - and rather a lot of things that could eat people.

What would they do now? She had no idea, knew that most of her identification and nature skills were based on forests and woodlands, did not know if she would even be of any use in the Arena.

Not for the first time, Shauna cursed Mountain Kalos being designated the ninth of the nine regions. She would be last, facing a crowd of Gamemakers that had already seen everyone else. She would have to stand out to get a high score, to actually catch their attention - and more, she had to do it with steadily mounting nerves as she watched the other Tributes go in one by one.

They did not come back, and she could only assume they were being led out a different door. It still didn't do much for her nerves.

"Good luck," she whispered as Serena's name was called, and Serena flashed her a smile, repeating the words back to her. And then it was just her and Trevor, both sitting and worrying together, Trevor's hands locked around the arms of the chair and Shauna jiggling her leg anxiously.

Fifteen minutes passed in an instant, and then it was Trevor's turn.

"Good luck," she told him again softly. Too visibly terrified to speak, Trevor only gave her a tight smile in return, then straightened his back and walked into the room.

If fifteen minutes had passed in an instant before, now they dragged on. Shauna tried counting, got to sixty, and started again; she had managed to reach six minutes before realising she had been counting too quickly and her timing was too far off. Instead, she closed her eyes and tried to force herself to calm down, to make her hands stop shaking, to focus on what she was going to do.

The plant identification game. She was going to do the plant identification game. She had been practising for half the afternoon, she knew she was good, she knew that survival skills were often what helped a Tribute to survive - she could do this.

She could.

"Shauna Sahnoun, region nine," the mechanical voice droned, and she jumped to her feet, nearly overbalancing as she took a deep breath and walked into the room to receive her judgement.

 

So it could have gone better.

At least she wouldn't have to wait too long. That was a definite benefit of being the last one in - she had just half an hour until they would televise the scores and - what? She never really had properly understood what the scores were for, other than the Gamemakers judging them on how likely they were to survive. Was it simply a ranking? Did the Tribute with the highest score always win, did the Tribute with the lowest one always die first?

She could not remember, every single previous Games flying out of her head.

One thing was for certain, though - she would not be getting a high score. Shauna had walked into the room with her head held high, had marched briskly to the plant identification game, had taken her place at the station - and had promptly forgotten every single plant she had ever seen.

Seven minutes later, she had walked out of the room with her damp eyes on the floor and her hands trembling, hating herself for panicking, knowing that it would be even more difficult in the Arena itself. Here, she was just being judged - in there, it would be life or death.

"Shauna?" Lysandre murmured as she left her room in the region nine apartments a few minutes before the broadcast and threw herself face down on the sofa in the living quarters. "Ah - I didn't see you come in earlier. Dare I ask how it went?"

"I'm going to die," she moaned, and for once, she was not being dramatic. "I was _awful_. I did the plant identification thing, where you pick the poisonous ones, the edible ones, and the medicinal ones, right? And I knew I could do it, I did! But I got in there and I just..."

She groaned again, burying her face in the cushions.

"You panicked," Lysandre concluded correctly, and she felt the sofa dip as he shifted to sit beside her. "You were afraid, and because of that, you made mistakes, is that correct?"

Silently, she nodded, pushing herself up but keeping her shoulders hunched. "Yeah, I just -" she started in a whisper. "I just - I forgot everything I learned. I _did_ panic. And if I panic there, which is like... safe and it's just people, then what will happen when I'm in the Arena and people are trying to kill me?"

Giving her shoulder a squeeze, Lysandre shook his head. "The Arena is honestly quite different to a Gamemaker assessment," he explained. "It's easy to be terrified, it's completely understandable. I was afraid as well."

Shauna blinked up at him in astonishment - Lysandre gave the impression of always been solidly in control of his emotions, cool and calm about just about everything. "You were afraid?" she asked, her voice small.

He nodded gravely. "I was terrified. When I stood on the platform, my legs were shaking with such force that I was surprised I didn't fall off. And then the Games started." For a long moment, he looked pensive. "Once you're actually in there, another part of your mind takes over. It is the part that has always driven humans to survive, and it is coolly analytical. It makes careful judgements and does not give in to panic. If you allow yourself, you can view the situation objectively, you can set yourself goals, and you can survive."

And then, with the conclusion of that little speech, the television switched itself on.

Shauna bit down on her lip as the official Hunger Games interviewer and host, Diantha Carnet, introduced the segment. She liked Diantha, despite herself - the softly-spoken host with her gentle Kalosian accent was one of the last chances for the Tributes to impress an audience, and she had a knack for calming terrified teenagers down, to prompt them to answer questions in the best way possible.

Even her announcements of the deaths for the day on the nightly recap show were done compassionately. Shauna could only hope that when she died, Diantha would be as compassionate about her as well.

Now, though, she watched Diantha as if through a warped window, unable to make her eyes focus on the television screen. If the calm that Lysandre spoke of was going to kick in and get rid of her fear, now would be a very good time for it to do so.

The first score, for Red, the eighteen-year-old boy from Kanto, flashed up on the screen, and Shauna knew he was going to win. A score of eleven - it was nearly unheard of, and even Lysandre made an astonished noise.

They continued, they rose and fell. The twelve-year-old girl from Johto got a four; and in the next breath, the Hoennite Brendan, one of the older competitors, managed a nine. By the time they reached Kalos, Shauna had bit her lip bloody - an eleven for Red, a ten for Hilda, the girl who had volunteered, Brendan and May alike with nine.

Tierno's name was called, and he was awarded an eight. Korrina, a nine, one of the greater competitors. Calem was called, and Shauna held her breath as he was awarded a ten, and Serena, immediately after him, a ten as well.

She let her breath out slowly. One floor below them, she had the feeling Central Kalos would be celebrating.

"And last but definitely not least, region number nine, Mountain Kalos!" Diantha proclaimed cheerfully. "First up, Trevor Rousseau - with a score of seven!"

Managing to take control of her nerves, Shauna smiled tightly at Trevor, who seemed pallid with relief - a seven was nothing to sneeze at.

"And finally, Shauna Sahnoun has been awarded -"

Shauna held her breath.

"- a score of four." And the sound rushed out of the room, replaced by the roar of her heartbeat, barely managing to hear Diantha's signing off of, "Good luck to all of our Tributes, and may the odds be ever in your favour!"

The odds were not in her favour. They never had been.

"Olympia," Lysandre said calmly, distantly, like he was speaking from beneath the ocean, "Why don't you take Trevor into the other room and discuss tactics? I will work with Shauna."

There was a light, gentle touch on her shoulder. She flinched.

"Shauna, listen to me," Lysandre told her insistently. "Do not count yourself out of the running just because the Gamemakers gave you a low score, it does _not_ mean you are weak and it does _not_ mean you are condemned to death. Do you know what the scores actually are?"

She shook her head muzzily. "I guess they're - how good we are, which I guess means that I'm bad -" Her voice cracked, and she was dimly aware of Lysandre reaching up to rub her back.

"Training scores mean three things," he started, his voice calm and steady to ease Shauna's own frayed nerves. "The first score means nothing to you - it's how initial bets are calculated. Tributes like Red will not get a very high payout if people place money on them. Betting on Tributes like you and Lyra will net them a higher payout. These are only the initial scores - they can change by the minute once the Games start."

Betting calculations. Shauna exhaled once, then nodded.

Lysandre gave her a careful look, then nodded once and continued. "The second thing may very well be to your advantage. A high score means that both the other Tributes and the Gamemakers consider you to be a threat. Not being seen as a threat means that you won't be deliberately targeted - they'll focus on the higher-ranked competitors."

"Betting calculations and how much of a threat I am," Shauna whispered. "Okay. What's the third thing?"

"This is the only area where it may be to your detriment." Despite the ominous words, Lysandre still sounded calm. "It means it will be more difficult to secure sponsors for you. However, if you prove your worth, you will find that they'll start supporting you - especially if we play things right. The interview show tomorrow - play up your innocence and sweetness. It will help attract the kind of sponsors that see you as - forgive me - a little girl to be protected."

"I don't mind," she managed with a wobbly smile. "But okay. Has anyone who's ever scored a four actually _won_ , though?"

Lysandre raised an eyebrow. "Augustine only scored a five."

Shauna blinked once.

"You see," he pressed on, "The Gamemakers look at a very limited range of skill sets, namely the ones available in the Training Centre. They do not take into account individual talents and knowledge and skills. Augustine was tall but very slight when he was seventeen, he was not physically formidable at all, he was not a natural Pokemon battler, but he _was_ exceptionally knowledgeable about Pokemon and their habitats. He was able to use that knowledge to hide himself, to find useful resources, to use type match-ups to his advantage, and to avoid traps, and -" He hesitated, just for a moment. "At the end, when it was just him and one other Tribute, he was able to use that knowledge to send the other into a trap. And so he won his Games without ever killing another person directly, although he still feels terribly guilty about the fate of the other Tribute."

Managing a moderately crooked cheeky grin, Shauna pointed out, "I bet you're glad he did, though, right?" And then she flushed, ducking her head. "I mean - you guys are, um -"

"Together, yes. And I am grateful every day to have him."

There was an expression on Lysandre's face that Shauna had never seen before, intermingled love and devotion and contentment mixed in with sadness, old hurts and new fears. She bit down on her lip so hard she tasted blood, and before she could really think about it, she wrapped her arms around Lysandre's shoulders in a hug.

"Take care of each other, okay?" she said quietly as she drew away. "Because it's really good that you guys have each other. If I survive, I hope I get to have someone too."

"I will do everything I can to help you win," Lysandre promised solemnly, and Shauna closed her eyes.

"And I'll do everything I can to try."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

The last full day in the Capitol dawned bright and sunny.

Lysandre stared out the window and scowled at the cheer and sunshine outside. This day was always hard, was never a joy to get through - with no further training allowed and with the interview show that evening, he knew each of the Tributes would be on high alert, anxious and afraid of the interviews ahead, their one and only chance to get the Capitol on their side.

Because once they arrived in the Arena, now less that a day away, it would be entirely up to them.

The urge to go back to bed was nigh overwhelming, to wrap himself around Augustine and sleep the day away, to pretend that the world outside did not exist. And for a moment, he did retreat back to the bed. Settling cross-legged at the edge, one hand carding through Augustine's soft dark curls, a fond smile curved his lips as he watched his lover murmur sleepily, nuzzling against Lysandre's hand.

What he had told Shauna the night before was true. He was so endlessly grateful to have this man in his life. Without him, it was unlikely he would still be alive - or, if by some unhappy circumstance his heart still beat in his chest, he doubted he would be particularly sane without him. From the moment Augustine had first approached him at the celebration party after his victory to warn him of what was to come, just eighteen and his grey eyes far more haunted than Lysandre would have realised from his memories of the last Victor on the television screen, he had been the most important being in Lysandre's life.

For Augustine, Lysandre would tear the world apart.

There were sleepy grey eyes watching him, and Lysandre glanced down when he sensed the scrutiny. "Morning," Augustine whispered, yawning widely and reaching up to trace his fingers across the back of Lysandre's hand. "How did you sleep?"

Lysandre simply shrugged - no need to elaborate on the nightmares he had had, Augustine had them just as often as he did - and stretched out beside him, idly tracing patterns against his lover's shoulder. "What about you?"

"Mrph."

Despite himself, Lysandre chuckled. Ask a silly question...

"How long do you think we can get away with staying in here?" he whispered instead, eyes closing as he wrapped himself around the source of warmth that was Augustine, head on his chest and revelling the fingers tracing through his own hair in return. "I'm happy to have breakfast in here... later. Although, I will admit, a coffee would be nice."

Augustine chuckled, the sound vibrating against Lysandre's cheek. "Were you more interested in dessert first?" he teased, dropping a kiss against his forehead. "We can wait. Just a little longer... come here."

Badly hiding a grin, Lysandre did just that, claiming Augustine's lips in a kiss that left them both light-headed and flushed, twining his fingers through Augustine's hair, feeling one of Augustine's legs wrap around his hips and his arms wrap around Lysandre's shoulders, stealing kiss after kiss as one of his hands slid down to trace the familiar terrain of that beloved body...

 

"Well, what about - like - fifty tons of plastic explosives? That'd do the trick!"

_What did I just walk in to,_ Lysandre found himself wondering as he stepped in to the Central Kalos living quarters some time after lunch. Serena, the speaker, glanced up in surprise at the movement, Shauna, Trevor, and Tierno gathered as well as Calem, Drasna watching with some amusement. "Dare I ask what you want fifty tons of plastic explosives for?" he asked dryly.

"Science fiction!" Shauna chirped with a grin. "We were talking about writing science fiction, and it's set in this horrible dystopia where this evil government punishes all its citizens for just about everything, and our heroes want to destroy their main government building as a symbol to the resistance, and we're trying to work out how to stop them. If any of us survive, we're going to be _writers_ ," she added importantly, "And writers get to come up with all sorts of things, like how to blow up totalitarian dystopias!"

It took every ounce of self control that Lysandre possessed not to grin. "May I suggest that it be televised on every channel for added impact?" he suggested soberly, and Shauna and Serena both brightened up.

"Yeah - yeah, make everyone see what's really happening!" Serena grinned. "Thanks, Lysandre. Want to help us write the story?"

He chuckled. "We'll see. Have you rehearsed yet?"

"In fairness, there isn't a lot of preparation that can be done for this," Augustine called out as he stepped into the room as well. "Diantha will be as gentle as she can, but she isn't a mind reader. It's best to just keep calm and allow yourself to think over each question, instead of trying to plan for ones that won't get asked." Moving to settle on the arm of the sofa, Lysandre hastily stood, guiding Augustine to his own seat. (Augustine was... not the most co-ordinated of people. Honestly, it was a miracle he had actually made it through the beginning of his Games without falling off his platform.)

"What if she asks something really hard?" Shauna frowned, fidgeting slightly with one of her pigtails. "Like - like, what if she asks me about how I felt about getting a four? I can't be happy about that!"

It was a fair question, and Lysandre sat back thoughtfully. "There are a few approaches you could take," he pointed out. "Sheer cockiness, saying that scores mean nothing and you intend to win, may not necessarily fit the image you're going for - it may make people believe that you're arrogant, or that you're lying to make yourself look good."

"Isn't it all lying to make ourselves look good?" Calem pointed out. "We're meant to win over the crowds, but not all of us can do that really well just on our own."

"I know. The trick is to make the persona appear to be as seamless as possible. Maybe..." He sighed. "Maybe just tell them the truth. Tell them you're worried, that you know you're better than that, that you want to be able to prove yourself. Tell them that you're more than just a number, and you're going to try your hardest."

She smiled hesitantly. "Okay. I'll - I'll try."

A bell chimed then, and the speaker popped into life. "All Tributes," came the droning call, "Please report to the reception floor for transportation to the Remake Centre." With an audible pop, it fizzled out, leaving a sea of startled faces in its wake.

Lysandre smiled tightly at them. "Time to get dressed up," he said, standing as well. "I'll see you at the interview hall. And -" He gazed at them, at Shauna biting her lip, at Trevor fidgeting, at Serena with her jaw set. "And - good luck."

 

"So far, so good," Augustine whispered in Lysandre's ear as Serena rose from her seat and walked steadily back to her spot at the back of the stage. "They performed well, I think."

Lysandre nodded. Their spot in the mentor's row gave them a front row view of the interview process, technically a part of the stage itself but tucked away unobtrusively from the cameras. They had watched every Tribute perform to their best ability so far, their Pokemon-inspired costumes eye-catching and vivid, Serena smoothing down the skirt of her Absol-based gown. She had been confident and calm and driven; Lysandre truly thought that she may have been one of those rare chosen ones who would be a natural winner.

Of course, the Arena rarely played well with fate. Still, she had the potential, and if Shauna stuck with her, she did as well. Shauna had the greater survival knowledge, Serena could fight - they would be a formidable combination.

Trevor was up next, and Lysandre straightened up, well aware that the cameras would be on him and Olympia as well. Still, he had little to worry about - Trevor had seemingly replaced his shyness with sheer nerves of steel, and he only stuttered twice.

And then it was Shauna's turn, and he held his breath. She looked sweet and innocent in her Sylveon dress and with ribbons in her hair, far younger than sixteen, and he could hear the occasional, 'aww' and 'isn't she sweet!' from the crowd. Catching her eye, he nodded encouragingly, and sat back to watch.

He needn't have worried. Diantha led her through each question gently, did not ask about her score, and Shauna practically skipped back to her position, a sunny smile on her face.

Diantha stood; she turned to face the camera. "And now," she announced solemnly, "For the reading of the card for the Second Annual Quarter Quell -" Lysandre jerked, he had honestly forgotten - "Please welcome our illustrious leader, President Ghetsis Harmonia!"

Only with long practise could Lysandre note the dislike in Diantha's voice. It was not, of course, a surprise; most members of the rebellion loathed the president.

"My friends!" the man boomed as he walked out to the sound of a fanfare, his cane raised high. "This is indeed a special year - the second of those events known as Quarter Quells! For the Fiftieth Annual Hunger Games, we will have a special twist to it!"

In his hand was an envelope. Lysandre watched it and watched him, a cold kernel of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. They already had Tributes, what could they do now? Switch them out at the last moment for new Tributes? Announce that the Games for that year would be replaced by a friendly game of tag, and that they would all be going home? At the back of the stage, the Tributes had started whispering to each other, panicked glances swapped between them and their mentors.

"For the Second Annual Quarter Quell..." President Harmonia started slowly, and slid open the envelope. "To remind the regions that their uprising will never be forgotten and to ensure that all of its citizens will know not to repeat the mistakes of the past... a third Tribute for each region will be selected... from one of the two regional mentors for this year's Games."

Augustine's hand tightened around his own so tightly he could feel his bones protesting in agony.

A third Tribute. A third Tribute, chosen from the mentors. A third Tribute, going into a fight to the death against the children they had been mentoring for over a week.

And he knew, knew even before the President started the announcement, that he would be returning to the Arena.

They were not, it seemed, being selected randomly. Ghetsis held a series of envelopes, opening each one in turn, revelling in each name called out. Janine for Kanto, Koga screaming in frustration and anger in the audience. Morty for Johto, with Eusine burying his face in his palms in despair. Steven for Hoenn, Wallace slumping in his chair. Byron from Sinnoh, taking his place on the stage with his eyes cold.

And Lysandre began to come to the realisation - every single one of the mentors being called up were involved in the rebellion.

N for Eastern Unova, his terrified whisper of, "...Dad?" shockingly loud in the quiet of the auditorium, Ghetsis remaining unmoved for his son's plight. Roxie for Western Unova, leaping on to the stage with her hands curled into fists.

For Coastal Kalos, they called Valerie's name, and Grant immediately leaped to his feet with a howl. "No!" he screamed, "No, Valerie, ma Fée, no - I volunteer! I volunteer as Tribute!"

"My apologies," said the President unapologetically. "We will not be using the volunteer system for this year."

Grant slowly sat again, his face almost grey with terror, Drasna wrapping an arm around his shoulders as Valerie silently ascended the stairs. In the audience, Siebold, the third part of their trio, was being comforted by Eusine.

And then it was time for Central Kalos, and Augustine was clinging to Lysandre's hand so tightly that it hurt, and Lysandre did not care because he was holding back just as tightly, and Drasna had her eyes closed as she whispered, over and over, "Choose me, choose me, please choose me," and Lysandre bit down on his lip and fervantly hoped and prayed that it was Drasna who would be chosen, Drasna, who had lived a long life already, Drasna, whose death would not tear Lysandre apart.

"The third Tribute for Central Kalos will be..."

_Please_ , Lysandre prayed.

"Augustine Sycamore."

For a moment, Augustine did not move, although his face was white with shock and his grip on Lysandre's hand spasmed once. And then he stood, each trembling step he took towards his place at the back of the stage another stab at Lysandre's soul, each step taking them further apart tearing him to pieces.

"Augustine," he whispered once, dimly aware of Olympia taking his other hand and rubbing it soothingly.

The President called Lysandre's name next and he did not look back as he ascended the stairs, as he passed by Ghetsis with murder in his eyes. _I'll stop you,_ he wanted to scream, _For what you've done, I'll destroy you!_

But all he could do now was take his place beside Augustine, reaching for his hand despite the cameras on them, holding tight to the one person that he could not lose at all costs, to the one person that kept him hanging on, and the one person that the Capitol was going to try to take from him.

_I'll stop you,_ he swore, and closed his eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: Offscreen rape/forced prostitution

**Chapter Nine**

Augustine felt like he was walking through a dream.

It had the hazy unreality of a nightmare, the walls almost wavering in front of him, his heartbeat thudding painfully in his ears. Distantly, he recognised that Lysandre was still holding his hand, that his friends and his chosen family were around him - the mentors, both those chosen to go in and those who were not, other victors, their friends and their families with them. There were hurried conversations, whispered commiserations, heartfelt promises from the mentors who had not been selected swearing to protect all three of their charges.

"Augustine?" Drasna murmured gently from behind him, and he was vaguely cognizant of his aunt wrapping her arm reassuringly around his shoulder. "I'll protect you. I'll do everything in my power to get you and Lysandre and the children out. I swear it."

He nodded numbly, still not letting go of Lysandre's hand.

The Capitol was trying to kill them all. That much was abundantly clear, that much was immediately obvious from those selected. Every single mentor returning to the Arena was involved in the rebellion, the fight to free the world from the grasp of the Capitol that Augustine had been a part of since he was twenty. This year, they had been planning to put things into motion, to break into the Arena, to save the children and to fight back, to expose the Capitol and its lies and violence...

And now this had happened. It was simply too much to be a simple coincidence - the Capitol had known, had realised that nearly every mentor would be fighting against them, and had taken deliberate action to ensure that they would be stopped in their tracks.

Augustine's gaze landed on N, the President's twenty-one-year-old son, trembling against the wall, and felt a sudden hot surge of fury. If they knew, if they knew that President Harmonia had deliberately had his own son Reaped in an attempt to have him killed because of his rebellion sympathies, if they knew that he had sent his only child back into the Arena in yet another attempt after N, despite all odds, had managed to survive -

If they knew that the Reapings were hardly by chance, if they knew that Augustine had been Reaped because of his aunt, if they knew that Janine had been Reaped because of Koga and Clair because of Lance and poor, dead Roark because of Byron and now May, the girl from Hoenn, because of Norman -

If they knew that the Capitol was engaged in a war to destroy the regions one by one, by punishing dissidence by targeting children -

Would anyone still support them? Even the Capitolites wouldn't support their beloved President conspiring to have his own son killed.

They had started moving again, back to the Apartments where they would have a long, long night ahead of them, and Lysandre let go of his hand only to wrap his arm firmly around Augustine's shoulders. Eyes half closed, Augustine let Lysandre guide him, fighting the rising panic in his chest, letting the warmth of his lover's body soak into him like a brazier. He and Lysandre would be back in the Arena, would be back in the place of their worst nightmares, with all of the forces of the Capitol trying to kill them - wrapping an arm around Lysandre's waist, he clung close.

Flanked by Peacekeepers, President Harmonia stepped out in front of them.

The victors stopped short, a few who had already gone ahead looking back in alarm before quietly beating a hasty retreat. (Augustine could not bring himself to blame them, honestly - he knew that he and Lysandre were by far from being the only ones to be abused in such a way by the Capitol, and if they could escape this fate, then they should have.) Lysandre's arm tightened around his shoulders; Augustine raised his head to meet the President's gaze, fighting against every instinct he had to run.

"Ah, you're all here," President Harmonia said calmly, the red lens over his eye glinting in malevolence. "Wonderful. I was just about to invite some of you to a soiree - one last hurrah, you might say. What do you say? Steven? Augustine? Clair? Valerie?" His gaze shifted. "N, son, would you like to attempt a little celebration?"

None of them moved.

None save for Lysandre.

"No," he snarled as he let go of Augustine, stepping forward with his hands balled into fists. "Not this time. You're already sending us off to be killed, isn't that enough without stripping us of one last night of peace? Don't you get it? _You've already won!_ "

"Lysandre," Augustine managed to whisper through a suddenly parched mouth. "Don't -"

Ghetsis did not react immediately, other than fixing his gaze on Lysandre, a hard, cold look on his face. "No, I suppose that is unfair," he mused, "After all, you will probably be dead this time tomorrow. I merely did not wish to deny my good friends the pleasure of your... company. Perhaps, tonight, I will be merciful..."

And then he smiled, the expression twisted on his face.

"...So long as Lysandre accompanies me to personally explain to my good friends why you will not be in attendance tonight."

"No!" Augustine protested immediately, stepping forward only to be stopped by Lysandre's outstretched hand.

"You will not touch Augustine if I go with you," Lysandre said calmly, although Augustine could see that his hands were trembling ever so slightly. "Or any of the others. I will go with you willingly, but I will be the _only_ one."

The eyepiece on the President's face glinted. "Agreed."

Before Augustine could protest, Lysandre spun back to face him, pressing a kiss to his lips. "I'll be back as soon as I can be," he whispered, resting one hand against Augustine's cheek. "Work with the others - we'll get through this, I swear it. Je t'aime."

"Je t'aime aussi," Augustine whispered back shakily, "Be careful."

Lysandre smiled back sadly, and moved to follow President Harmonia and the Peacekeepers.

Augustine was barely aware of the trip back to the Apartments, only that he was surrounded by others, friends and family, Drasna on one side and Steven, accompanied by Wallace, on the other. He could not help but feel that Lysandre had, in essence, sacrificed himself for his sake. Augustine knew what would happen to him, and he swore to himself that he would pull himself together, that he would plan for their survival and would do everything he could to be strong for him, to protect him like he always had tried to.

But he could not protect him from the Capitol every time, and Augustine followed his friends to the roof, where the wind would whisk their voices away from the microphones, with the undeniable sensation that one or both of them would not be leaving the Arena alive.

"Where's Diantha?" he asked as they reached the roof, his voice sounding very far away - she had not been with them when they had left the studio.

"Meeting with Rood, I think," Siebold said quietly as they settled down, his leg pressed against Grant's and Valerie trying her hardest to sit in both of their laps at the same time. "She'll have a hard job out here."

Lance sighed heavily. "So will Rood. He'll do what he can, but - the other five Gamemakers will be fighting him every step of the way. Especially Head Zinzolin, he is definitely in Ghetsis' pocket."

Letting out a bitter laugh, Steven turned to rest his forehead against Wallace's shoulder. "We all will. What the hell do we do now? We were meant to help the kids until the breach, how can we do that if we're fighting for our lives as well?"

There was a pained silence, only the sound of the wind and the distant revelry from below audible.

"We have to do what we can," N finally volunteered, his legs drawn in close to his chest. "I think we should break into teams and try to protect the kids as much as possible. We tell them not to fight each other - we have to remember who the real enemy is."

Murmurs of assent echoed through the rooftop, and Augustine bit his lip. "Groups of two regions each would work best," he said softly, "And one group of three, or one region going alone. The bigger the group, the greater the chance of getting caught up in a trap."

"I assume Central and Mountain will team up?" Drasna asked, and he nodded once.

"Right," Janine confirmed. "How about me and Morty, and Steven and Byron? And the Unovans and Coastal?"

Shaking his head, N said weakly, "Father will have me targeted specifically, and the Pokemon will be afraid if there's more of us. Western and Coastal can go together, and the twins and I will go alone. Statistically, the fewer of us around me, the safer you'll be."

"But everyone will be at risk, N!" Olympia pointed out with no small degree of frustration. "They'll be targeting everyone - the mentors most of all, so the kids may actually be safer without us at all."

"But we know the Arena better. We can protect them, and they won't avoid going after the kids if we're not near them." Byron's expression darkened. "If they want to kill someone, they will."

Norman reached out to set a hand on Byron's shoulder, his expression drawn. Byron never really had gotten over Roark's death, and Augustine knew that Norman would be looking between Byron and Koga, wondering who he would take after.

"Steven," Norman said softly as he lifted his hand from Byron's shoulder, "Protect my little girl."

"I will," Steven vowed, "You have my word."

The meeting ended soon enough, and Augustine drifted back down like he was not entirely in control of his own body, stopping briefly at Lysandre's room to get a change of clothes for him before returning to his own room.

And he closed his eyes, and waited.

 

It was one in the morning when Augustine next started awake, barely realising he had fallen asleep. The door was sliding open and he pushed himself up, blinking at the sight of not one but two people at the door, Lysandre's shoulders slumped and Diantha's hand on his back to keep him steady.

"Lys?" Augustine called as he scrambled from the bed, hurrying over to him. Lysandre looked shaken, light-headed and tormented by whatever they had done to him, and there was obvious concern in Diantha's eyes.

Lysandre did not answer in words, wrapping his arms around Augustine and burying his face in his hair like he was the only thing keeping him upright.

"Thank you for bringing him back," Augustine told Diantha softly, running one hand up and down Lysandre's spine soothingly. "Are you okay?"

She nodded once, stepping inside properly and closing the door behind her. "I'm fine," she confirmed, her voice gentle. "I was - trying to get something organised." Exhaling, she dipped a hand into a pocket and drew out two golden rings.

Augustine's breath caught.

"Tokens," she explained miserably, "To take into the Arena. I - I had the insides engraved. I know it's not legally binding, but... I thought that if anything happened... you would have wanted the opportunity, and..."

Gazing at the rings in Diantha's hand as if he had never seen anything like them, Augustine slowly, slowly reached for them, turning them over in his suddenly shaking hands. Inside both were their names, linked by a small, simple heart, and the words, _vous êtes mon monde parfait_.

"Thank you," Lysandre whispered, breathing in slowly and then out again as he reached for one, Augustine closing his fingers around the other. "Augustine?"

He nodded wordlessly, bit down on his lip, and slid the ring he was holding on to Lysandre's left ring finger. "'Til death do us part," he whispered, the only words that seemed to fit, eyes fixed on the sudden tenderness in Lysandre's expression as he repeated the gesture and the words, soft fingers tilting his face up to give him a soft, gentle kiss.

Diantha sniffled audibly, pulling them both into a hug as they broke apart. "Be careful," she whispered to them urgently, "Take care of each other. I swear, I'll do everything I can to help you from out here. Stay alive, and I'll see you when you're out. Remember that I love you both!"

Augustine clung to her, just for a moment. "I love you too. Thank you for being my best friend," he told her with a crooked smile. "Next time we see you, I'll tell you that again."

"See you later," she whispered, and stepped out of the room.

And then it was just him and Lysandre, alone in their room on what was possibly the last night of their lives. Silently, Augustine took Lysandre's hand, rubbing one thumb over the back, brushing against the ring. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

Lysandre managed a tight, exhausted smile. "I need a shower," he said simply, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Come with me?"

Silently, Augustine nodded, letting Lysandre lead him to the attached bathroom.

They undressed silently, Augustine carefully taking note of each new bruise and scratch that marred Lysandre's skin, hesitating before slipping off the ring as well, not liking the idea of it disappearing down the drain. Lysandre switched the shower on, hot and clean without any of the myriad soaps and perfumes and dyes that the Capitolites loved to adorn themselves with, and they stepped in together, Lysandre's wild red hair immediately flattening under the spray.

Augustine managed a smile, reaching out to tuck a strand of red behind Lysandre's ear. "You look like a wet Pyroar," he teased gently, an old and comfortable joke, and Lysandre even managed a smile.

And then he slid to the floor of the shower, drew his legs to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, buried his face in his arms, and began to weep.

Wordlessly, Augustine crouched beside him him and Lysandre immediately unfolded, clinging to him as if for dear life (and that, indeed, was a fair comparison). Closing his eyes, Augustine ran a hand through Lysandre's hair, stroking and soothing, knowing that it wasn't just the trauma of whatever the President had done to him but also the knowledge of what the morning would bring.

And so he didn't say anything, didn't offer empty platitudes or promises of survival, knowing that any such promise would hurt all the more if it was broken by factors behind their control. What had happened to them both, what was still to happen to them, was a travesty, and no words could make it better.

They simply had to hope and pray that they would survive, that they would be able to prevent this from happening to more and more as the years passed.

"Do you remember," Lysandre whispered suddenly against his hair, "The night of that first party, after my Games ended?"

Augustine nodded once, slowly.

"You tried to warn me -" Lysandre said, and his voice cracked - "About what was to come. You made it easier to bear with. You gave me support and you made it, just for a little while, something good. And then, at the end, you picked me up off the ground and we shared a shower and you held me while I wept for the life I had lost."

"I remember," Augustine whispered, closing his eyes, holding tightly to Lysandre, feeling the flow of blood and the pulse of life beneath his skin and promising, promising to remember how alive they were at that moment.

Lysandre reached up and wiped at his eyes. "I think that was when I fell in love with you," he confessed quietly, "And you have protected my heart ever since. Now..." He bit down savagely on his lip, then leaned in and kissed Augustine again, slow and lingering. "Now, we could lose each other, and I can't, I - can't -"

His voice cracked again and broke entirely, his words failing him as they held on to each other, Augustine feeling his chest tight with tears he wouldn't let fall.

"We'll protect each other," he swore quietly. "We'll be okay."

Eventually, when the water threatened to run cold, they stepped out again, drying each other off, Augustine managing a smile as he lifted the towel away from Lysandre's hair. Hand in hand, they returned to the bedroom, the rings returned to their place on their fingers; Augustine settled back on the bed and held a hand out to Lysandre.

"This time tomorrow, we might be dead," he said quietly, and his breath caught as Lysandre claimed his lips in a fierce kiss, pushing him gently down against the mattress, his body covering Augustine's like a shroud.

"Then we will make the most of tonight," Lysandre whispered, and kissed him like the world was ending.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

By the time the morning chimes went off, Serena had already been awake for at least two and a half hours.

With a defeated sigh, she rolled over in the bed, burying her face in the pillow. She would might as well make the best of it - it was, quite possibly, the last bed she was ever going to sleep in. Later in the morning, she would be going in to the Arena, facing not just seventeen other Tributes, but also nine experienced Victors who had already killed to survive once before.

How on Earth was she supposed to calmly eat breakfast with Calem and Augustine, knowing that in just a few hours, she would be fighting against them for her life?

And how could she kill them? She was not a killer, and she would rather let herself die than take another's life.

Finally swinging her legs out of bed, she stared blankly at the carpet for a long moment before getting to her feet and trudging to the shower. _My last shower,_ she thought distantly as she stepped under the spray, cleaning as best she could, scrubbing the remnants of last night's make up away.

_My last time washing my hair._

_My last time brushing my teeth._

_My last time braiding my hair._

She stared back at her reflection, her face drawn and miserable, her mouth set in a line, then shook her head and dressed in the clothes that had been left for her - a pair of form-fitting white shorts and a sleeveless top in fabric that looked thick and waterproof. Along with those was a pair of socks; there were no provided shoes, and she pulled her dressing gown and slippers on over them just for the sake of warmth.

Somewhere hot, perhaps?

At the breakfast table, she found Calem and Augustine dressed in the same, also following her lead with the dressing gowns. Both looked utterly exhausted, and she suspected that neither of them had slept much either - especially Augustine, who would have known that he was destined to return to the Arena for less than twelve hours.

"Morning," she said softly, tucking into as hearty a breakfast as she could manage without making herself sick.

_My last breakfast._

"Serena," Augustine said suddenly, and she lifted her head. "I've been giving Calem some last-minute advice. The official language in the Arena is Unovan, so try to avoid Kalosian - the viewers won't understand it. Don't step off the platforms until the countdown finishes - they plant explosives around them. Get as many useful things as you can from the Cornucopia, especially survival items, and then get away from there as quickly as you can. If you've already formed alliances, this is when you will meet up with them. Move away from the others and try to find shelter and water. Got it?"

Serena blinked once, immediately recalling Shauna's face. "Got it," she confirmed quietly.

"Alliance?" Calem murmured from beside her, and she nodded once. He nodded in return as well, leaning past her to grab the pitcher of water, and suddenly there was a whisper in her ear - "We're teaming up with Mountain. Don't fight anyone else, they won't hurt you. Get as much as you can and then run, we have to get out before they realise what's happening."

"If you wanted the water, you could have just asked," she countered shakily, dropping a hand to Renard's Poke Ball and squeezing it reassuringly. "And sure."

They weren't fighting? It didn't make sense. The Capitol wasn't going to let them get away with it, were they? Even if they all agreed not to fight, eventually, they would simply run out of resources, perhaps starve to death in the Arena itself. Not the best television, but surely fighting was the only way to get out?

Augustine gave her a reassuring smile and mouthed, "Trust me." She nodded again, dropping her gaze and frowning.

What, exactly, was going on?

"The first day," Drasna started softly, "Is always the hardest. It's when the majority of deaths take place, either because of the Arena itself or because of the fighting. As the Games continue, it gets both easier and harder to survive - you won't get as many sponsors, since the prices rise constantly, and the other Tributes will be getting more desperate, but you'll also be more familiar with the Arena. By the time you get to the middle of the third day, you should be used to it, and if you survive that long, you're definitely in with a chance."

With a nod, Augustine gave her a strange and meaningful look. "Do you think you can do that? Survive until the middle of the third day?"

Calem nudged her ankle hard, and Serena frowned instinctively. Was something going to happen then? Something they couldn't talk about?

"I think I can do that," she said slowly. "Especially if I stick with my allies, right?"

Augustine smiled, visibly relieved. "Exactly. The three of us can ally ourselves with each other - I know what kind of tricks the Arena usually uses, and I can help you out as much as I can. Do you trust me?"

She nodded wordlessly, not entirely sure why aside from the fact that the mentor she was getting to know was very much more human - and very much more broken - than the cocky, flirtatious victor she had heard so many stories about. Somehow, she knew that he was not in the pocket of the Capitol; if anything, he seemed to be actively against them at times.

But quietly. Subtly. Hidden in his deference to the Capitol's direct orders, but visible in the doublespeak and insinuations and the look in his eye.

Yes, she trusted him.

"What happens now?" she asked instead, "I mean, you see the Tributes all arrive in the Arena and everything, but - how do we get there?"

"They'll come and get us in... thirty-two minutes," Augustine explained grimly with a glance at the clock. "The four of us will be transported to the launch station, and then, well, the three of us will be shown to a separate hovercraft." He hesitated briefly. "I'm not sure beyond that, that was usually when I parted ways with the Tributes, and my own Games were nearly twenty years ago. If it's the same, then you'll have the tracker injected in your arm - it's so the Gamemakers can track your movements and life signals at all times - and then be taken to the Arena. You'll be shown into a room where you change into your uniform -"

"There's more than just this stuff?" Calem asked with palpable relief.

Augustine actually managed a laugh. "These are basically just the first layer. The actual uniforms will be tailored to the environment we'll be in. But, we'll get changed, and the speakers will tell you to stand on the platform in the tube when the time comes. Then, the platform will lift you into the Arena."

"What happens if we don't get in the tube?" Serena asked curiously, sudden thoughts of rebellion dancing through her head.

Grimacing, Augustine told her, "Then the friendly Peacekeepers stationed outside your door will come inside and _throw_ you into the tube."

"Oh," she squeaked.

With the remaining half an hour they had left, Serena steeled herself and prepared to enjoy every last minute. She listened to music loudly on the speakers; she ordered chocolates and ice cream and cake from the food machine. If she was going to die, she was going to die happy; and if she was going to have to run for her life, she would might as well run on a full stomach. Calem played games with his Froakie, Augustine managed to down another two cups of coffee after the two he had already had at breakfast, then gave the last empty mug a sad look and muttered, "Caffeine withdrawal."

("I'll try to secure you some caffeine pills from the sponsors."

"Oh mon dieu, thank you.")

And then it was time, and Serena's good mood immediately plummeted at the sight of the Peacekeepers filing into the room. She was silent as she followed the mentors (when had Augustine got a ring?), was biting her lip anxiously as they boarded the monorail, was trembling faintly as they plunged into the tunnel and then popped out again several minutes later in the brightness of the air field.

"This is where we say goodbye," Drasna said solemnly as they stepped outside, three small hovercrafts awaiting them. "I'll do everything I can to help you. Good luck and stay safe and stay alive. Augustine..."

She pulled the other mentor into her arms, kissed him on the forehead, and gave him a quavering smile. "Be strong, nephew. I'll see you again."

Barely managing a smile back, he pulled away slowly, and allowed himself to be led off, one of the other Peacekeepers gesturing for Serena to follow.

Oh god, she was afraid.

They boarded the hovercraft, the current freezing her to the ladder as it lifted her bodily into its interior. Before she could move, a needle was plunging into her arm, the tracker a solid lump under her skin, before she was released. Her dressing gown and slippers were confiscated; they searched her, ensuring that only the clothes on her back and Renard's Poke Ball would be going into the Arena with her.

And then they were touching down again, and Serena found herself in a long corridor, glowing arrows guiding her into a room. The door sealed itself shut; a muffled thump from the outside indicated that the Peacekeepers had stationed themselves outside.

"Okay," she whispered, glancing around. Plain concrete painted white, the only contents of the room were a metal shelf bolted securely to the wall, several white and grey items set upon it, and the tube - the tube, open on one side, the tube, with its painfully familiar silver platform on the bottom, the tube that would carry her to the Arena.

She turned away from it, focusing on the silver and white items, peering at them critically. This, she assumed, was her uniform, and she pulled them on hurriedly - thick, sturdy white pants with a silver stripe up the sides, accompanied by a woven white belt and silver buckle with a clip for Renard's Poke Ball, a high-collared, long-sleeved white shirt with silver piped up the sides, heavy white boots lined with what she desperately hoped was synthetic white fur, white gloves, the outer layer glossy and waterproof, and a heavy coat, white (again) with silver running up the sleeves and around the arm holes and down the sides, fastened with silver clips, a glossy silver '8' printed on the back, a hood with more white fur attached.

Somewhere cold, then, and she pulled them on and immediately began to sweat.

"Please enter the tube," a mechanical voice called, and her heart froze in her chest.

"Please enter the tube," it said again, and she trudged towards it, trembling, barely able to muster the energy to lift her booted feet.

"Please enter the tube," it said with an air of distinct menace, and she stepped inside, spinning around as the opening slid shut with a hiss of pneumatics.

Her next stop was the Arena, and Serena pressed one hand against the tube to steady herself before standing up straight, holding her head up high, the hood thrown back. If she was going to die, then let the Capitol get one damn good look at her face before they killed her, and by the time the platform started moving, she was no longer trembling.

The platform emerged into sunlight and she squeezed her eyes shut, dazzled, before opening them tentatively to find herself in a frigid plain of white snow and cold blue ice.

"May the fiftieth Hunger Games begin. May the odds be ever in your favour."

It was time for the Games to begin - if she didn't freeze to death first.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

The Arena was frozen.

Shauna was trembling, from nerves and cold, as the platform drew to a halt on the surface. Around her, she remembered from Lysandre's warning, were high explosives - the Tributes that made the fatal mistake of stepping off too early had to be scraped off the ground, and just the sheer thought of that made her legs weak and her knees tremble.

Her gaze flickered over the field. In a circle stood the other twenty-six Tributes, all centred around a massive silver structure packed with useful items and with other bits and pieces scattered around it. _The Cornucopia,_ her mind provided with the memory of previous years, and then, with unerring accuracy, amended that to, _The Cornucopia Bloodbath_.

Every year, this was where more Tributes died than any other place, in the fight for the best weapons and best equipment. Now, the threat came from the Capitol itself, and not the other Tributes - if they had been told the same thing that Lysandre had told her, they would be working together.

On one side was the boy from Hoenn, on the other side, the girl from Western Unova. She could not see Serena, but she spotted Lysandre, his shock of red hair vividly bright against the snow. Trevor was half-hidden behind the Cornucopia, Calem a few places away, and Augustine almost directly opposite her.

He was watching Lysandre, their gazes locked; and with a nod, they broke eye contact and Lysandre met her eye instead.

With one gloved hand, he gave her a thumbs up, and then nodded subtly towards the woods nearest to him, where she assumed they would rendezvous after the Cornucopia.

Above the silver structure, a countdown began from twenty. Shauna bit her lip and started counting down with it, the words coming out, softly and shakily.

_Do not step off the platform too quickly._

Fifteen.

_Get the bag there. It has a lot of pockets and it looks waterproof._

Ten.

_Find Serena, join Lysandre and Trevor and the others._

Five.

_Survive._

Four.

_Survive._

Three.

_Survive._

Two.

_Survive._

One.

_Survive!_

The cannon fired.

_RUN!_

Shauna launched herself off the platform, holding her breath as her boots collided hard with snow and rather pleased not to find herself blown into a fine red powder. Sprinting towards the pack she had seen earlier, grateful that the boots at least had some actual traction and with the ease of someone who had grown up in the mountains, she bent low and snagged it, slinging it on to her back.

"Morty, where's Lyra?"

"I'm here!"

Next was the spear lying nearby - she would not use it as a weapon, but it was sturdy, could serve as a good walking stick in the snow or a support for a shelter.

"Who's the asthmatic?"

"Me!"

"Here, found an inhaler!"

Next, a space blanket, folded up in its plastic case. There, nearby, was one of the holy grails of the Arena - a set of three red and white Poke Balls, and she snagged it with hands rapidly becoming overly full.

"Rosa, Nate! To me!"

"We're coming, Roxie!"

Just past that was a food pack, complete with a flask - empty or full, she did not know, but she grabbed it anyway.

"Shauna!" someone called urgently, and she looked up sharply to find Serena racing towards her, her arms similarly full. "Augustine, Lysandre, I found her, let's go!"

And shifting the spear in her arms, she raced onwards, making for the path that Lysandre had nodded to earlier, out of breath and exhilarated, laughing at the co-operation and concern the other Tributes had shown, the best 'up yours' to the Capitol she could have even imagined - the most bloodless Cornucopia the Games had ever seen.

Her footsteps faltered, just for a moment, as an explosion rocked the ground and sent snow falling from the trees, and the cannons fired twice, Nate screaming Rosa and Roxie's names in horror and fear.

"We can't do anything!" Lysandre called urgently over his shoulder, "The Cornucopia is the most heavily-rigged part of the Arena, we need to get clear!"

Shauna bit down on her lip until it bled, but nodded, speeding up again. The Cornucopia had been a game, almost - getting whatever equipment she could find, finding her friends, and running. But now two people were dead, and Rosa was younger than she was, she was only a teenager and she was dead and it was the Capitol's fault and she had to survive, they all had to survive, they had to show them that they were not just pieces in their Games.

It was a good fifteen minutes before they finally slowed, Shauna's legs and chest burning, dumping her burdens on the snow and flopping down beside them. The thick clothes were not to her advantage, now, and she unzipped the heavy coat, fanning her red face.

"We caught them by surprise back there," Augustine explained quietly as he set himself down next to Lysandre, his head dropping to his lover's shoulder, voice almost swallowed up by the wind. "So they may not have been able to act immediately - but the entire field is rigged with mines. They must have set some off manually."

"Did you know Roxie?" Serena asked softly.

Both mentors shook their heads. "Only distantly," Lysandre clarified. "Of the Western Unova mentors, we both know Skyla and Clay better. Of those in the Arena with us, the only ones we would call good friends are Valerie, Steven, Morty, and Byron. Most of the others are much younger." There was a pensive look on his face, and he shook his head. "Much younger. Roxie was only twenty-three."

"Six years older than me," Calem mused, then sighed, opening up his pack. "We should work out what we've all got and split supplies."

It amounted to a good collection of supplies, between the six of them. They had two good-sized blankets and one smaller one, two lengths of rope, and a good knife. There were a pair of orange goggles, good against the snow, that they debated over for a moment before handing to Lysandre (the palest with the lightest eyes, the most susceptible to snow blindness). There was a metal tin, empty for now but with potential to serve as a cooking vessel, and the various and assorted food they had gathered - three flasks, some dried apples, a good quantity of nuts, crackers, and a few packets of ration bars, the spear Shauna had grabbed and a length of tarpaulin that Lysandre had managed to snag, and, between the six of them, a good dozen red and white Poke Balls.

They distributed their bounty between the packs they had managed to get, Lysandre slipped the googles on, and they set off again, glancing back nervously in the direction of the Cornucopia, keeping their ears pealed for the sound of cannon fire.

"We need to get fresh water," Lysandre said grimly as they made their way through the woodlands. "But I suspect the streams will be frozen - Serena, do you think your Fennekin will be able to melt some ice?"

Serena frowned, setting a hand on the Poke Ball. "I think so. I guess it depends on how thick it is, huh?"

Augustine nodded, making a thoughtful sound. "Fennekin don't have enormously strong fire," he explained, "But these starters have been specifically trained so that they'll be able to evolve very soon. Once your Fennekin is a Braixen, we may have some more luck." With a sigh, he set a hand on the Poke Ball on his belt. "I'm afraid I won't be able to use Artemis at all, despite her strength - she's enormously vulnerable to the cold. Shauna, your Chespin will be vulnerable, too. Espoir and Pikachu should be reasonably alright - Calem, your Froakie will be able to resist the cold as well as Fennekin, so we'll be using your two a lot."

"If we see another Fire type," Lysandre told them evenly, "Or a Fighting or Rock type, we will catch it. There will be a great deal of Ice types here. An Electric type may not go astray either, given that there are also likely to be Water types to which our Fire or potential Rock types will be vulnerable."

"You know a lot about this kind of stuff," Shauna said quietly, one hand hovering protectively over Fariha's Poke Ball. She hadn't known the little Chespin for long - but knowing that her typing would make her vulnerable here was a nasty surprise, and she couldn't see her letting her new starter out very often.

Already, she was fond of her, and she vowed to keep an eye out for one of the more useful types, so that Fariha might stay safe.

"So we still need water, right?" Trevor piped up, then pointed down the hill. "We're not going to find it if we're high up, so let's go down there. And watch out for the ice, it might have snow on it!"

Trevor, as it turned out, was correct - they found the stream when Augustine nearly slipped on it, saved only by a hasty grab by Lysandre at his jacket. "Good!" he exclaimed once he had recovered his balance, "And the ice doesn't look too thick, either. Serena, if your Fennekin may do the honours?"

With a grin, Serena released her Fennekin, who examined one snow-covered paw with some fascination. "Right, Renard," Serena ordered, "We need to melt the ice! Be careful you don't get wet, okay?"

Renard let out a little yip in affirmation, then took a breath and released a small gust of flames. Shauna turned away, hunting for rocks - they would be able to hammer through once the ice started thinning out, to reduce the burden on Serena's starter. She managed to return with three, working with Calem and Lysandre to start hammering through.

"We can't stay in one place for too long," murmured Augustine, who was keeping watch as they worked. "Look, we got lucky at the Cornucopia. But they know that if they want us dead, they'll have to do it themselves - we have to be constantly ready to move, and not to get too relaxed."

Guiltily, Trevor started upright.

Augustine offered him a smile. "It's alright when we're doing something like this, Trevor! But be prepared for anything, okay?"

'Anything', as it turned out, was a sharp crack as the ice finally gave, slipping a little below the surface of the stream and starting to fracture. "We have water now, so fill the flasks, drink what you need, and then refill them," Lysandre ordered quietly, dipping his own flask in and then passing it across to Augustine. "We can't linger here."

This turned out to be more of an accurate statement than Shauna would have really liked, as a rumbling roar echoed through the trees. Lysandre froze in the midst of refilling the flask, immediately on guard, his hand hovering over Espoir's Poke Ball.

"Be prepared to run," he whispered, and slowly, silently, Serena bent to pick up her Fennekin.

It was probably a good thing she did, as the ice needles that flew out of nowhere would have hit her in the head otherwise.

With a muffled shriek, she threw herself to the ground, Renard pressed against her chest and quivering in fear even as she fumbled for the Poke Ball to recall him. "Run!" Lysandre shouted as a huge white and green form crashed out from behind the trees, and Shauna paled - she knew what Abomasnow looked like, had seen them many times near Dendemille, and the _thing_ lumbering towards them was _not_ an Abomasnow.

"Mutt!" she yelped as she scrambled away, wavering at the edge of the creek. "We need to get across and away, if it gets us wet, we'll freeze!"

Augustine practically threw himself across, his long legs crossing the gap with ease, and Lysandre seized Trevor under the arms, hastily apologised, and threw him across to Augustine. Calem leaped over himself, skidding on the ice and pulled back on to dry land by his mentor; and Serena took a deep breath, steeled herself, and then shook her head helplessly and turned to Lysandre to be helped across the gap.

"Ready?" Lysandre murmured to Shauna, bending down so she could scramble on his back. She clung tight, face buried in his hair, unwilling to look at the icy doom beneath them.

Neither of them saw the second Abomasnow until its claws caught the backpack and sent Shauna flying, a bolt of pain shooting up her leg as she landed hard. She let out a yell of agony, grabbing at her foot, and Lysandre's composure slipped for a moment as his eyes widened in horror.

And then a burst of flame swirled out of the trees and turned the nearer Abomasnow into a pile of burnt leaves and flesh and melting ice, and Lysandre grabbed her under his arm and leaped across the stream and they ran, and ran, and ran.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

The sun had already reached its zenith before they finally stopped for a proper break, Lysandre crouching to let Shauna slide off his back. "Sorry," she said softly as she made herself as comfortable as she could against the bare rock; they had managed to find a small overhanging, a small pool covered in a thin layer of ice at the back.

"Don't concern yourself with it," Lysandre told her, then straightened up, his back popping as he worked the kinks out. Augustine handed him the last flask wordlessly; there was still a little bit of water in it, and Lysandre drank thankfully.

Serena returned briefly, handing a now-full flask to Shauna and collecting the one Lysandre had just finished off, heading back to the pool. "Maybe we could stay here for a bit?" she called as she refilled it, "There's shelter and water, we should warm up and have something to eat."

"I'll get some sticks for wood!" Trevor volunteered, taking one of the knives just to be on the safe side and hurrying out. Augustine watched him go worriedly, then settled down beside Lysandre.

"How are we going?" he murmured, gaze flicking across at Serena and Calem rehydrating themselves and refilling flasks, at Shauna resting against the wall.

Lysandre made a non-committal sound. "So far, so good," he shrugged, then let out his breath (which fogged in the frigid air) and turned to Shauna. "Alright - let's have a look at your foot."

With a groan, she eased her boot off. Letting Lysandre take care of it, Augustine turned his attention to preparing food (he may have had a science degree, but he was less than adept with human biology), finding a ration bar for each of them, mixing together the dried fruit and nuts. Still, it was a sparse amount, and he frowned as he divided it into six; they would have to find some other source of food later. And the Pokemon - keeping them in their Poke Balls would prevent them from growing hungry, but the more they were out, the more they would need food as well.

Berries, perhaps - they would have to keep an eye out. Aspear berries grew in cold environments, even if they were bracingly sour, and he suspected that they would possibly find yache berries as well. Still, any would be useful - while not necessarily as strengthening as they were for Pokemon, berries were, at least, still suitable for human consumption.

And given how much running they would have to do over the next several days, they would need all the strength they could get.

Just two or so days. Augustine exhaled slowly, eyes closing as he recalled the hurried words Steven had relayed in the small hours of the morning. Just two or so days, and they would be safe. He had to believe that it would work, that they would all make it out of the Arena, Tributes and mentors both. He had to believe that the other rebels, because he now knew that the Capitol at least had some idea of their numbers, would be able to flee (or had already begun to escape, to get out of the Capitol's jurisdictions).

He had to be optimistic, to hold on to the hope of survival.

And yet he had also spent nineteen years as a plaything of the Capitol, and he knew that they would not make it so easy. The part of him that was definitely more realist than optimist was telling him not to let up his guard, to prepare for the possibility of deaths, to get used to the idea that not all of them would be getting out.

But he hoped they would. He hoped they would survive and thrive.

"Trevor should be heading back by now," he murmured absently to Lysandre, forcing his focus back on the present. "Once he does, we can warm up, but we shouldn't stay too long."

"Agreed." Easing Shauna's boot back on over her now-bandaged foot, Lysandre straightened up. "I will go and give him a hand." He got to his feet and started to head out, then stopped short, a frown on his face. "Trevor?"

Augustine peered out, scrambling to his feet as well when he found what Lysandre was looking at - Trevor, standing several metres from the mouth of the hollow, his eyes wide, his face as white as snow and pointing above the entrance with a trembling arm.

"Trevor?" Lysandre said with audible concern, moving closer to the entrance but not yet stepping out, and that was when the Pyroar leaped down nimbly from top of the overhang.

Lysandre froze. Augustine drew in his breath sharply, and Shauna, finally able to see what was happening, let out a short cry. And then, slowly, impossibly, Lysandre held a trembling hand out to the Pyroar and dropped to his knees.

The instant before it bounded forward to lick his face, Augustine realised where he recognised it from.

When Lysandre had been a sixteen-year-old facing the Games for the first time, he had chosen a Litleo as his starter. Over the course of the Games, he and the Litleo became separated; with no Pokemon at all, Lysandre had instead caught a Magikarp, evolving it into the friendly killing machine that Espoir was today. But Augustine knew that Lysandre had never forgotten his starter, even if he hadn't had it for very long - and from the way the Pyroar was enthusiastically grooming Lysandre's hair, he hadn't forgotten Lysandre, either.

Lysandre threw his arms around the Pyroar's neck, buried his face in the warm mane, and laughed with the shaken hysteria of someone not quite believing what they had just found.

"You were the one who took out the Abomasnow earlier, weren't you?" Lysandre murmured to the Pyroar, who gave an affirmative huff. "Thank you. You saved both mine and Shauna's lives." With a smile, he gestured for Trevor to approach. "It's alright. This is Incendie. He was my starter in my Games, but we became separated. Now, it seems, we've found each other again."

"Thank you, Incendie!" Shauna called with a wavering voice from the cave, and Incendie huffed happily again.

"May I catch you?" Lysandre asked the big cat, drawing out a Poke Ball, and almost before he had finished the question, Incendie bumped his nose against the button and disappeared into a flash of light. The ball rocked once in Lysandre's outstretched hand and clicked once, and he chuckled, letting the Pyroar out again. "I suppose that answers that question."

Fighting to remove the broad grin from his face, Augustine turned to the children with a smile. "Well, it seems we have a new team member!" he told them cheerfully, "It always pays to just ask if you want them to join."

It was a tight squeeze in the cave, with two grown men, four teenagers, a rather large cat, and several small starters huddled around a fire. But they were warming up, and it was with some regret that they eventually smothered the fire, packed away the empty packaging, and prepared to leave again.

"Alright, our main goal right now is to fight somewhere to sleep for the night!" Augustine called as he shouldered his bag, "Look for somewhere flat, under cover, and with good drainage, and preferably shaped so we won't get snowed in. If it's near water, that's even better, and keep an eye out for any berries or other food!"

Stomachs reasonably full and definitely warmed up, they bundled up again, Augustine tugging his gloves on and giving a quick smile at the ring on his finger as he did. Lysandre was busy helping Shauna up, having fashioned the spear she had grabbed at the Cornucopia into a cane. "If you can't go on any more, let me know immediately, alright?" he murmured to her, and she nodded shakily.

Smiling a little, Augustine turned to his own students. "Alright! Ready to go? Got your packs and your Pokemon?"

Receiving a chorus of affirmatives, they set out.

Shelter, it seemed, was hard to come by this year. Very few of the cliffs actually had the dips and hollows conducive to sleep, and the one that they had vacated earlier was far too small for all of them to fit inside while lying down (especially if they didn't want to end up rolling into the frigid water). At the very least, they did find some berry bushes, able to harvest a good amount of aspear berries - it seemed that a few others had been picked clean, and the footsteps around indicated that one of the other groups had come by.

Once, the cannons sounded - once, twice, three times in a row. They had paused for a moment, pensive and silent, and then continued onwards.

Augustine was becoming sick of white.

All around them was snow and ice, and the air was silent and chilled them to the bone, even through the clothing provided for them. He was shivering beneath them, his feet numb, as he continued to trudge onwards, grateful at least that it wasn't _actively_ snowing and that there was little to no wind. Still, the scenery was monotonous - snow-covered pine forests, giving way to snowy fields occasionally dotted with rocks and shrubs. Once, he brushed back the snow to find the grass beneath and curled his gloved fingers into the greenery just for a moment; and then he rose and continued onwards.

Here and there, there were hills and gullies, and they scanned each one for possible shelter, for traps, or for both at the same time. One cave proved likely, small but sheltered, immediately inviting - but then Shauna had pointed out the rocks balanced above, the fine cracks in the cave walls, and they came to the conclusion that if they had entered the cave, it would become their tomb.

They were becoming tired, Augustine realised slowly, and his head hurt (probably caffeine withdrawal, and just the thought prompted an immediate and fierce craving for coffee), and if they didn't stop somewhere soon, they were going to start making mistakes, and then the ground beneath their feet started to crack.

"Get back!" Lysandre shouted urgently as he darted backwards, the snow at his feet shuddering and them falling inwards as the thin ice between them and an alarmingly large crevice gave way. They turned heel and ran, Shauna and Serena (trailing behind, Serena helping Shauna along) managing to dart to safety, Augustine struggling to reach safe ground but managing to drag himself up before the ice broke too significantly, Lysandre leaping and pulling himself on to solid ground.

Calem and Trevor were not so lucky.

Serena screamed as they plunged into the crevice, Shauna letting out a gasp of horror and terror. Breath caught in his throat, heart in his mouth, Augustine scrambled forward on his hands and knees, fingers curling into the snow as he peered downwards, his eyes wide and his chest cold.

One cannon fired.

"Calem?" he called shakily, "Trevor?"

Whichever one survived - whichever one whose life had not been lost on his watch - did not answer, and he did not see either of them in the darkness. They would not be able to climb down, and the rope, he could see, would be too short - whoever had survived was on their own. He sat back on his heels, feeling sick, eyes falling shut. This was not the first time a Tribute had died that he was mentoring - but this, seeing it happen before his eyes, was another matter entirely.

"We have to keep going," Lysandre told them, voice dull. "We can't stay here, the land is too unstable. Let's go."

A rather smaller group trudged onwards with heavy hearts.

They moved slowly, to keep an eye out for anything of use and to account for Shauna's injured foot, and they were not very far at all from the crevice when darkness began to fall. "Okay," Lysandre said tiredly, "The cliff face over there slants inwards and should be reasonably sheltered. We will stay there for the night."

No one could really bring themselves to argue. It had been a long day, they were cold, they had heard three more cannons earlier, Shauna was barely able to walk even with her makeshift cane and with Serena's constant assistance, and they had seen one of their own die and another disappear, and the idea of rest sounded magnificent.

They ate a meagre meal, silent and subdued until the Capitol anthem rang out. Now, they looked upwards to the sky, paying their dues to the dead, to those who had not been able to survive.

Ethan, Lyra, and Morty, Johto taken out in a single blow.

Brendan, and Augustine felt a sudden cold relief that it was not his friend's daughter who had died and immediately hated himself for it.

Lucas and Byron, all of Byron's grief and resentment ended at last.

Rosa and Roxie, the first victims of the Arena.

And Calem, and Augustine felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach, not wanting to see the visible relief on Lysandre's face, the relief he knew was instinctive and involuntary and disappearing rapidly as soon as Lysandre noticed his mood.

"Tomorrow," Lysandre said, and his voice cracked a little. "Tomorrow, we focus on finding food and water, and we try to find Trevor."

They nodded, collectively contemplative, and Shauna turned her face to Serena's shoulder and began to weep.

"I'll keep watch," he told them quietly as Lysandre knelt before her to try and reassure his Tribute, positioning himself outside the little dip, gazing up at the artificial sky and quietly saying a goodbye for every friend he had lost today.

And to Calem, and to every child who had died in the Arena who had depended on him to survive, to everyone he had let down, he could not apologise enough for failing them when they needed him the most.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

At the very least, keeping watch in the small hours of the morning, Lysandre was not too cold.

He had Incendie to thank for that, leaning back against the Pyroar and feeling warmed down to his bones, a bubble of warm air surrounding them from the Fire-type's own internal heat source. Resting against Incendie's other side were the girls, curled around each other for comfort and companionship more than warmth; sleeping with his head in Lysandre's lap was Augustine, breathing softly and gently as Lysandre absently carded a hand through his curls.

Augustine let out a soft noise of contentment, his eyelids fluttering for a moment before opening. "What's the time?" he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

"Early," Lysandre whispered, caressing his cheek briefly. "Go back to sleep, we'll have a long day ahead of us."

"We'd better make the most of it, then." A content smile on his lips, Augustine pushed himself into a seating position and leaned back against him, and Lysandre wrapped his arms around his lover's shoulders almost in instinct. "Cameras, you can kindly go fuck yourselves, this may be unsuitable for younger viewers," he said, and kissed Lysandre hard.

Lysandre chuckled against Augustine's mouth at the uncharacteristic language, knowing that the Gamemakers would still be watching but the broadcast probably would have switched away, and pulled him on to his lap. "Tu es beau," he whispered in all defiance of the Arena's rule to speak in Unovan only, tugging off his gloves and letting his hands slide up the back of Augustine's shirt and feeling the shudder run through his body, Augustine nipping at his lip at the touch.

"How far does this go?" Augustine murmured against his mouth as he unbuttoned the first few buttons of Lysandre's coat, fingers trembling and the ring glinting on his finger, "The girls are right there, and they could be recording..."

Making a wordless sound of pleasure as Augustine's fingers traced over his collarbones, Lysandre shrugged. "They already have recordings of us... but no, we shouldn't go too far with the girls there." And then he grinned faintly, sliding his hands down Augustine's back and lower still, eliciting a gasp and a jerk of a hips from him. "But that certainly does not mean we can't enjoy ourselves."

"D'accord," Augustine chuckled, kissing him again and then lowering his mouth to suck and bite at Lysandre's throat. Lysandre groaned softly, stroking Augustine's back and legs and chest and stomach, anywhere he could touch, ignoring the cameras on them, ignoring the Arena, ignoring everything but just the two of them, a world shrunk down to just him and Augustine, feeling the touch of his hands and the pulse of heat running through his body.

He wasn't quite sure which of them first realised that it was external heat, not internal, but either way, Lysandre almost dumped Augustine off his lap as he leaped to his feet, eyes narrowed at the sudden orange glow he could see through the trees. "Fire," he barked, "Wake up!"

Any passion or intimacy immediately forgotten, Augustine scrambled to gather their belongings, shaking the girls awake. "We've got to get out of here," he told them urgently as he pulled his gloves on again, "They've started a fire, let's go!"

_That's one way to kill the mood,_ Lysandre thought bitterly as he knelt to let Shauna climb on his back, straightening up and checking that Espoir's Poke Ball was close at hand. Incendie growled deeply at the flames, now approaching closer, and Lysandre set one hand on his head in reassurance and set off at a run.

Had they done it deliberately, to punish them for their rather minor displays of defiance? Probably, he thought with no small amount of resignation as they sprinted away, Augustine close at hand, Shauna clinging to him, Serena close behind. "Make for water!" he shouted over the roar of the flames, "A pond, a river, anything, just not too shallow, and not too iced over!"

What would they do if they did find water? If it was iced over, they would be in danger - they could cross it and potentially fall beneath its depths, the ice over the top a suffocating lid. They could find something too shallow, the surface boiled away in the inferno that was now hot enough to be scalding their backs, sweat dripping off his face as they raced through increasingly slushy snow. And no matter what the solution was, they would end up with the potential for hypothermia - being in a frigid environment in wet clothes was definitely not conducive to health.

They had Incendie, at least. No changes of clothing, but they could dry off the blankets, huddle close to the Pyroar, and keep warm while their clothes dried off.

Provided, of course, that they did not burn to death first.

Shauna shrieked as sparks flew past them, tightening her grip around his neck and twisting around to stare at the path. "It's coming up really fast on our left!" she warned urgently, and they veered right hard, catching a glimpse of the flames Shauna had spotted before any of them. "And some of the trees are catching right above us, try to get out to one of the fields!"

The downside of a forest - for all the shelter and wood they provided, fires spread swiftly through them, leaping from branch to branch, even with a thick blanket of snow - well, slush, at this point - on the ground. He nodded once, scanning the forest ahead for any sign of the woods beginning to clear.

"Turn right!" Augustine said sharply, flinging one arm out where not a stream, but a river could be seen. At least several metres wide and with fragments of ice floating on the surface rather than an impenetrable sheet, it was perfect, and Lysandre clumsily recalled Incendie as he veered to the right.

"Ready?" he shouted, receiving an affirmative shout from Shauna as she prepared to let go. "Hold your breath!"

Augustine reached the water first, practically falling into the frigid water and letting out a sharp yelp as he did. "It's freezing!" he called in warning as Serena leaped in as well, the girl shrieking as she emerged. And then there was no ground left beneath Lysandre's feet, Shauna loosening her grip as they fell towards the water, the shock of icy water so sudden that the breath was stolen from his lungs and the burning air from the fire actually welcome as he spluttered to the surface.

"Y-your hair looks r-r-ridiculous," Shauna managed to giggle through chattering teeth, and he gave her a sulky look, feeling himself rapidly going numb from the neck down.

"Wh-what now?" Serena stuttered, staring dubiously at the flames that had now overtaken the entire bank, flinching as a flaming branch splashed into the water nearby.

"Now, we wait until the flames go out," Lysandre told her grimly, staring at the bank as the flames, indeed, did start to flicker and die now that the Gamemakers realised that they weren't going to leave the safety of the water any time soon. "There. You see?"

There was a faint splash as Serena swam closer, watching in fascination. "Oh - weird. I guess they just gave up on using the fire, huh? Does that mean they're going easy on us?"

"It's unlikely," Lysandre admitted, "They will probably have something else planned. We should be on our guard."

Serena would have answered then, had she not suddenly been yanked beneath the surface, her gloved hand flung upwards before being pulled under too.

Shauna let out a cry of terror and Lysandre immediately reached for the Poke Ball on his right hip, releasing Espoir in a flash of light. "Get Serena!" he shouted urgently, and the Gyarados immediately dove beneath the surface, returning a handful of seconds later with Serena clinging to his horns, a scream erupting from her lips as she tried to kick the green and white fish clinging to her left leg away.

"Get it off!" she wailed, and Shauna grabbed the spear she had been clinging to the entire time, stabbing upwards at the Basculin. "Thanks!"

"Out of the water!" Augustine barked with uncharacteristic urgency, "They're found in schoo--" He was cut off abruptly with a cry of pain, splashing frantically as one latched on to him as well, and a second later, burning pain sliced through Lysandre's calf as well.

Espoir dropped Serena, rather unceremoniously, on the opposite bank, and then immediately dove back in, closing his jaws around Shauna as she struggled against more of the Basculin, the water churning. She yelped a little, calling out, "Thanks!" as Espoir spat her out as well, immediately crawling to Serena's side as best she could with an injured foot.

What the girls spoke about, Lysandre did not know - he was a little distracted with trying to fight off a horde of Basculin. "Get Augustine out!" he managed to shout to Espoir anyway, kicking out fiercely and feeling his foot connect with a solid Basculin body, wickedly sharp teeth scraping against his leg as it did.

And then Espoir had him out too, dumped in a soaking wet, bloodied pile on the other bank, and he hastily recalled the Gyarados before the Basculin could hurt him, too. The waters stilled, Lysandre collapsed back in partially melted snow and tried to catch his breath, dazed from the frantic running and the frigid water and the pain from the Basculin attack.

Three-foot-long fish with razor sharp teeth. They were lucky to still have all their limbs.

"Injuries?" Augustine called tiredly, a blur in Lysandre's peripheral vision as he pushed himself up. "These might get infected, we have to see if we can get any antibiotics - if Drasna or Olympia are watching...?"

There was no answer, but Lysandre did not necessarily expect one, instead pushing himself upright as well. "Some puncture wounds," he murmured as he slid the boot off and rolled his pant leg up, examining the incisions in his calf. "They're not deep and haven't punctured any arteries, thank Arceus."

Augustine and the girls were in similar shape, and slowly, they retrieved anything remotely like a bandage from their sodden packs, Lysandre noting with some distaste that the ration bars were now completely useless. Eventually, they elected to tear the smaller of the three blankets to shreds, binding their wounds to the best of their abilities, trudging to their feet and letting Incendie out again for some small attempt at warmth.

And they pressed on.

The artificial moon was high and bright as they emerged out of the woods, Lysandre's eyes immediately picking out a camp fire set against one of the cliffs. "Over there," he said hoarsely, lifting an arm to gesture, and they determinedly hobbled onwards.

It was Steven, and Augustine practically collapsed in sheer relief at the sight of his friend - Steven, and May and Dawn, the girls from Hoenn and Sinnoh. "What happened to you?" Steven exclaimed, digging out a spare blanket, "Come and warm up, you must be freezing, you're soaking wet, there's _ice_ in your hair!"

They could sleep now, Lysandre thought muzzily as they stripped out of their sopping wet outer clothing, Serena and Shauna joining the other two girls under their blankets, he and Augustine curling up around each other under another, Incendie's slow breathing filling the little cave with warmth, Steven's watchful gaze keeping them safe.

For now, thank Arceus, they could sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

It was almost pleasant waking up in the morning, now at a far more sensible hour than their late-night flight through the burning forest. With the girl from Hoenn, May, keeping watch, Steven had fallen asleep too, head resting against Augustine's shoulder, and Augustine sleepily readjusted their blanket so the other Victor was more covered.

They had been lucky indeed to have found Steven. He was one of Augustine's closest friends in the small core group that they had formed, a handful of Victors in consecutive years - Steven had won the twenty-eighth Games at just fourteen years old, followed by Olympia, Cynthia, himself, Lysandre, and then Alexa, his first time as a mentor and his only surviving Tribute until Emma, thirteen years later.

He hoped they were all safe. Olympia and Cynthia were now sole mentors; Alexa would possibly be helping Drasna look after them, returning the favour. And he, Lysandre, and Steven had all been sent back in, to fight for their lives, to potentially die for the Capitol's amusement.

But they were still friends. They were still, almost, a family of sorts. And honestly, he and Lysandre were lucky to still be with each other, to be able to help each other - back in the Capitol, Wallace would be watching helplessly as Steven fought for his life, Grant and Siebold would be supporting each other as they looked out for Valerie, Eusine would be mourning Morty. And not just lovers - he knew Koga must have been in a state of despair over his daughter being sent to the Arena again, and knew that he would be trying to support Norman, watching in terror as his child found herself plunged into a world that her father still routinely had nightmares about.

They all did. And they all supported each other. And that was something the Capitol could not take away. They could force Augustine and Lysandre and Steven into atrocities, but they could not stop him from trying to protect Lysandre from the worst of it, or Steven protecting him after Augustine's own victory. They could not stop commiseration and comfort and support, of sharing beds simply for warmth and security and companionship, Augustine and Lysandre and Steven and Wallace and Hiroshi and Diantha and Cynthia and Alexa curled up and breathing evenly, protecting each other through the long nights, shielding each other from nightmares, those who had never been forced into the Arena supporting those who had, those who had able to understand.

In a way, he was almost grateful for the Capitol's continued summons, no matter what they did to him when he was there. It was, at least, an opportunity for love and support from his friends, something he rarely got in the Victor's Village in Lumiose City - oh, he could see Lysandre simply by getting on the train to Kiloude, and Drasna was the only biological family he had left, and Alexa and young Emma were good company, but it just was not the same.

Surrounded by Lysandre on one side and Steven on the other, Incendie's comforting (and warm) bulk against their backs, Augustine began to drift off again, a faint smile on his face.

Just let the Capitol _try_ to take this from them.

 

"Oh! There! There, that shrub over there!"

The artificial sun was high in the artificial sky, glittering off the snowy field, and Shauna had just spotted a windfall - a bush of sitrus berries, heavy with fruit only faintly dusted with snow. They ate their fill then and there, stashing others in their packs for later along with the spare food Steven had given them, and refilled their water flasks at the shallow creek that wound past them, thankfully free of both ice and mutated Basculin.

"Oh my god, what I wouldn't do for some freshly baked bread," Serena groaned as she took a bite of one of her berries. "You don't think the mentors could send some, could they? Or some hot food, that would be nice!"

Augustine gave her a wry smile. "I would think they would have other priorities. Bandages or antibiotics or painkillers. Or caffeine pills." (Augustine had, once again, a caffeine withdrawal headache, and quietly he simultaneously cursed and longed for coffee with a desperation that was a little alarming.) And then he paused thoughtfully, glancing up at the sky as if to scan for parachutes. "Come to think of it, I don't think I've seen _any_ parachutes. Normally, the first day has the most, that's when items are the cheapest for the sponsors to pay for. They get more and more expensive as time goes on."

Lysandre worried his lip for a moment, following his gaze. "They may be preventing us from being sent items," he said quietly, "Or the catalogues don't have any useful items... or they've all been priced out."

That was an alarming thought, and Augustine scanned the skies some more as if a silver parachute would simply descend at the very words. If the Gamemakers were deliberately ensuring that the sponsors couldn't send them potentially lifesaving items, and Augustine knew intimately and from personal experience that they could be the difference between life and death, then they would be at the mercy of the Arena itself. Their only saving grace was that (potentially) the Capitol may not have learned of their plans.

Otherwise, he didn't think any of them would be making it out at all. It would be all too easy for them to trigger something immense and devastating - an earthquake or an avalanche, a flash flood or another wave of fire like the one from that morning, only one with all water and all potential for safety drained away.

"Well," he said softly, trying hard not to think about his potential death at any moment, about how he could be dead by the end of the day. "I think we need to find shelter and get some rest while we can. And preferably some firewood, it's freezing."

"There is a forested area over that way," Lysandre murmured, gesturing with one hand as he finished off the last of his berries. "We should be able to find wood there."

They trudged off through the snow, moving slowly. Shauna's foot was beginning to heal a little, at least - she had a new set of crutches, crafted from broken branches and padded with strips from one of the ruined blankets - and she was mobile again, able to move without needing to be carried. It was slow, but they were getting there - and if they survived the next day or so, she would be able to get it properly seen to.

Just one more day. They could survive that long, couldn't they?

The forest was a heavy one, thick snow covered a layer of pine needles and the trees dense above them. They had only ventured a few metres in before the lighting dimmed significantly, Augustine scanning the ground for any branches they could use for a fire. Pine was not the best, he knew, it would spark and spit, but even sparks were better than slowly freezing to death. And if the Capitol decided to turn down the temperature, honestly, they could use all of the help they could get, well beyond what a young Fennekin and a single Pyroar could offer.

"I think I see some over there," Shauna said as she pointed off somewhere to the left after several minutes of walking, "It looks like a tree got splintered or something? We could pick up a lot there!"

"Well spotted." Lysandre gave her a brief smile, giving his Tribute's shoulder a squeeze. "There's also some a little ahead - they are larger pieces, so I will get those while you show Augustine where the other pieces are."

"Right!"

Dividing into pairs, they set off, Shauna guiding Augustine to the splintered tree. He frowned when they reached it, though - it looked as if it had been hit by a bomb, and sticky purple residue hung in thick strings from the battered pieces. "What happened here?" Shauna asked with a frown, peering at the purple goop but not touching it at all.

"I'm not sure," Augustine said thoughtfully. He had seen it before, he was sure of it - maybe in another Games, maybe in his studies - but where from?

A droplet of purple slime hit the ground a few feet away, and sizzled alarmingly. Slowly, Augustine peered upwards.

Immediately, he clapped a hand to his mouth.

"We need to get out now," he told Shauna in a soft, wavering voice, "Keep your mouth and nose covered as best you can. And for the love of Arceus, _don't wake them up_."

"Wake what up?" Shauna whispered, eyes wide.

Augustine simply pointed upwards and began to slowly, carefully, quietly move back towards the main path, scanning for Lysandre and Serena as he did. They weren't far, at least, closer to the path than he was, and he covered his mouth and nose with one hand, pointed upwards, and then gestured at the path, indicating that they should head back down it with all due haste, covering his mouth with one finger before tugging his coat collar up.

They would do best to be quiet, lest they wake up the hundreds of sleeping Weezing mutts only a few metres above their heads.

Lysandre and Serena reached the path first, Lysandre glancing back uncertainly before Augustine flung a hand towards him, indicating that he should keep moving at all costs. He rested a hand on Shauna's back, keeping her steady as she manoeuvred on her crutches, her shirt pulled over her mouth but slipping every so often.

Augustine bit the inside of his cheek, glancing back up at the Weezing nervously.

And that was when one of them woke up, spotted the intruders, and exploded.

" _Run!_ " Augustine shouted, clasping one hand to his mouth and nose and grabbing a stumbling Shauna's hand with his other. But it was slow, too slow, and the others were awake now, and toxic purple clouds of smog were descending upon them, and Augustine made a split-second decision and scooped Shauna up in his arms, one hand pressed to her face to keep the toxins from infiltrating her lungs, and he ran.

He ran, both arms occupied with holding Shauna, unable to cover his own face but able to cover hers, able to protect her even as his chest heaved with the gases he was breathing in with every ragged pant, eyes smarting, lungs burning, one of Shauna's small hands coming up to try and cover his face but unable to be kept there with the jostling and running and scrambling, and there was light up ahead, the end of the forest, the end of the Weezing nest, and Augustine burst out into cold, clean, fresh air, dropped Shauna in the snow, and collapsed to the ground.

Vaguely, he was aware of Lysandre screaming his name, shaking hands turning him over and brushing snow from his hair and face, and tearful blue eyes surrounded by cream and a halo of red hair swam before his vision. "Lys," he managed to whisper, quietly surprised at how hoarse and pained his voice was, each breath laboured. "A-are you okay?"

"How much did you breathe in?!" Lysandre demanded in a frantic, terrified voice that Augustine had never heard before, and a part of him marvelled at being able to elicit such a reaction from his usually stoic lover, the sight of him wavering in front of his eyes. "Augustine, _Augustine_ stay with me! _How much did you breathe in?_ "

"Too much to survive it," Augustine whispered, feeling his vision blurring at the edges, unconsciousness rapidly approaching. "I'm sorry." And he closed his eyes.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: blood, suicide, major character death

**Chapter Fifteen**

There really was no way around it. Augustine was going to die.

Slowly, they limped away from the forest, moving slowly and cautiously. Shauna had lost her crutches in the escape and now leaned heavily on Serena, shaky with pain and tensing with every step she took on her injured foot. Still, she was in substantially better shape than Serena's mentor, now on Lysandre's back.

Augustine was sick, that much was abundantly clear. He was as sickly white as a sheet, other than the unhealthy feverish flush on his face, sweating and shaking, slipping in and out of consciousness. His laboured breathing was clearly audible; every so often, he would be caught up in a coughing fit, the sound tearing and painful.

They were trying to be optimistic, Serena knew, for her and Shauna's sake. But she had heard the whispered confession, the answer to Lysandre's desperate question as they had fled. No matter how much they tried to pretend otherwise, no matter how optimistic they pretended to be about an antidote or at least some pecha berries, they all knew it. They all knew that Augustine had breathed in enough of the poison to kill him in the process of saving Shauna, and it would only be a matter of time before he died.

Shauna clung to her hand with a vice grip, limping through the snow, tears streaking down her face. "This is all my fault," she finally whispered, dropping her head on Serena's shoulder. "I-if I hadn't got hurt - he sh-should have just l-left me... I didn't wanna k-kill him..."

"Don't," Serena told her, her voice brittle, and squeezed Shauna's hand back. "It's _not_ your fault. It was _them_ who put the mutts in here. It was _their_ fault that you got hurt and it was _their_ fault that Augustine got poisoned. It's no one's fault but the fucking Capitol's!"

The words hung in the air, Augustine lifting his head wearily at the words. "It's not your fault, Shauna," he confirmed gently, and Serena physically started at how weak his voice sounded. "Please don't - don't blame yourself for this. I wanted to save you. I don't regret it at all."

"You should have just left me," Shauna whispered again, and fell silent.

They took a break before too long, settled by the side of a cliff, Augustine collapsing bonelessly against Lysandre. Whatever the poison was doing, it wasn't just affecting his ability to breathe - his muscles held no strength in them, relying entirely on Lysandre's support just to stay semi-upright. He refused any food, saying ruefully that it probably would just go to waste, and simply rested against his lover, shivering and feverish, one of Lysandre's ungloved hands running through damp curls.

"What do we do now?" Serena asked hesitantly, turning one of her sitrus berries over in her hands, her appetite somewhat diminished.

"We wait for the sponsors to send us an antidote," Lysandre said evenly, cracking on the last word. "It will come. It has to."

Augustine did not answer, other than to close his eyes, holding on as tightly as he could to his lover. He knew it, just as well as Serena and probably Shauna knew it. No antidote would be coming, and the poison would kill him.

And Serena knew then that Lysandre would break.

"There's no antidote coming." Augustine's voice was soft, barely audible over the wind. "Lys, there's no antidote coming, they'll never allow it. They sent us in here to die. You can survive, but - I won't last long enough."

"No." Lysandre's voice cracked hard. "No."

Augustine exhaled, slowly and unsteadily. "Serena, Shauna," he told them quietly, "I need to talk to Lysandre privately - could you give us a moment?"

_A last goodbye._ Serena bit down on her lip, helping Shauna to her feet. "Of course."

"Oh Arceus, this is so sad," Shauna whispered tearfully as soon as they were out of earshot, settling against Serena again. "I know you said it's not my fault, but I just - it _feels_ like it is, and - and do you think Lysandre will be okay?"

"He'll be fine," Serena lied, glancing back at the two, now deep in conversation, Lysandre's hands gently cradling Augustine's face and ignoring the tears streaking down his own. "Just - we'll have to help him, okay? Try to be as strong as you can, because if it's sad for us, it's going to be even worse for him, and we have to try to help him as much as we can."

Shauna nodded, worrying at her lower lip. "I know. Just - I wish it never happened like this. I wish Augustine never got poisoned. I wish I could have met you and Lysandre and Augustine in Kalos and we'd all be safe, and I wish Trevor was here, and I wish Calem was alive, a-and -" She bit down, hard, and whispered, "I wish the Games never existed."

"Yeah," was all Serena could say to that, and reached for her hand.

She chanced another peek, then bit her lip as well and turned away uneasily. Lysandre was crying, and it felt wrong, wrong and like it was against the natural order of the world. She had only known him for a few days and had seen him as stern, serious, but calm - now, he clung to Augustine with a despairing passion she had never seen before, Augustine practically in his lap, tears glimmering on his cheeks as well.

And she allowed herself to hate the Capitol, to despise them for choosing any of them as Tributes, for forcing Augustine and Lysandre and the other victors back into the Arena just when they thought they were safe, for hurting Shauna and for poisoning Augustine and for every single Game they had ever held.

Serena knew that this was the fiftieth Games. Already, nine of them had died this year, and - "Shauna, what's forty-nine times seventeen?" she asked quietly.

Shauna frowned briefly at the apparent change in topic. "Eight hundred and... eight hundred and thirty-three," she said slowly, "Why?"

"Including this year?" Serena hesitated, added the nine, and added quietly, "The Capitol's already killed eight hundred and forty-two kids and some adults." She fixed her expression, hard and obstinate, not caring who listened or what they did to her. "Once Augustine dies, it'll be eight hundred and forty-three. How many more are going to die? How many more until our _grandparents'_ debts are paid? It's not fair!"

"Serena, don't," Shauna whispered, and her voice cracked. "Don't. They'll - they'll punish us."

"They're already punishing us!" she snapped back furiously, then slumped back down, the anger draining from her body and replaced by despair. "I don't know what to do."

Tentatively, Shauna hugged her as best she could. "This whole thing stinks," she said quietly, shaking her head. "Look, I need to get another stick. There's some trees there - we'll only go to the edge. Not - not too far in."

"Yeah," Serena whispered again, helping her friend hobble towards the edge of the woods. At least this was a decent enough distraction, trying to find a suitable branch for Shauna to support herself on. Hadn't they said that they only needed to make it another day.

But Augustine was sufficient evidence that anything could happen at any time. Complacency would kill, and Serena was on high alert by the time they left, slowly making their way back to the cliff side.

Augustine and Lysandre looked more composed now, although Lysandre's face was blotchy from tears, his hands shaking as he waved them over.

"Serena, Shauna," Augustine started quietly, "I - I'm sorry. This is where we part ways."

Serena opened her mouth and then closed it again, feeling something cold and hard dropping into the pit of her stomach.

He smiled at her sympathetically, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder, and she felt her eyes prickling - how could he be the one to comfort her, when he was the one dying? "I know what Weezing poison does," he explained shakily, "And it's going to be - very slow and very painful. I'd still have a few hours left, but they won't be good ones. So I'm going to... to take matters into my own hands."

And he showed them the knife he held in his hands.

Serena clapped her hands to her mouth.

Quietly, Augustine shrugged out of his coat, handing it to Shauna. "For extra warmth," he said with a sad smile. Silently, he unclipped the Poke Ball from his belt, and handed it to Serena. "Artemis. Take care of her, please." And finally, he pulled off his gloves and laid them down, hesitated once, then slid off his ring and pressed it into Lysandre's palm.

Neither said anything; Lysandre tightened his grip around it hard enough to bruise.

"This is what the Capitol does," he said, and Serena could tell he was using every last ounce of strength to speak clearly, to keep his voice from trembling, ensuring that his voice would be heard. "This is what the Hunger Games mean. From now on, you have to fight them with everything you have. You need to survive and escape the Arena. You need to join the Rebellion, if you can, like I have. You have to make sure that the future is safe, and you have to make sure - make sure that _the Hunger Games never happens again_."

"We will," Serena whispered, trembling, clinging to Shauna's hand for support.

He nodded once in satisfaction, then turned to his lover. "Lysandre, je t'aime," he said softly. "Thank you for making me happy."

"Je t'aime aussi," Lysandre whispered back, already tearful again. "Augustine, I will love you until the end of time."

Smiling back shakily, he turned to all three of them. "You should go," he said quietly, "I don't want you to see this."

"Okay," Serena said tonelessly, "Thank you, Augustine."

She turned away, eyes closing at the sound of a soft, sad kiss, Lysandre moving back into her field of view to crouch and let Shauna climb on his back. She hesitated only once before doing so, and Serena followed behind them, her gaze downcast.

"I have a message for the Capitol," came Augustine's voice, soft but so, so clear in the sudden silence of the Arena, "Addressing everything that you took from me."

_Just keep walking,_ Serena told herself. _Pretend it's not happening._

"You stole my childhood when you called out my name on Reaping Day. You stole my innocence when you forced me to kill to survive. You stole my dignity when you whored me out to the highest bidder and turned me into a plaything and puppet for the Capitol's elite, and you stole my security when you promised to kill my family if I didn't."

_Keep going. Keep going. Pretend that your mentor isn't about to kill himself. Just keep going._

"You stole my hope when you made me watch dozens of children I was supposed to protect die. You stole my future when you sent me back into the Arena. And now you've stolen my life."

Lysandre was shaking. Serena reached for his hand.

"The Capitol has controlled my entire life. I will _not_ give you the satisfaction of controlling my death as well."

_Please don't. Please. Please don't do this._

"I win."

She whirled around, Lysandre already turning back, sprinting to his lover's side.

Augustine dragged the knife across his throat.

Lysandre stopped short, rocking back on his heels, as Augustine fell forward into the snow.

The cannon fired.

The hovercraft swooped into view, the crane gathering up a body in white and red with a shock of dark hair, the blood-covered knife dropping from nerveless fingers into the snow.

Lysandre watched and did not look away, did not take his eyes off the body being pulled into the hovercraft until the doors closed, did not take his eyes off the hovercraft until it vanished from sight, did not take his eyes off the red, red snow that marked the place where Augustine Sycamore had died.

And then Lysandre turned away, gaze focused on the sky, his eyes bloodshot and his face streaky with tears but his jaw set and his eyes hard and his hands balled into fists. "I have a message for the Capitol as well," he said, very softly, and his features twisted in a snarl.

" _I am going to destroy you._ "


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

Augustine was dead and it was all her fault.

It didn't matter what Serena said, it didn't matter what Lysandre said, it didn't even matter what Augustine had said. Shauna knew that it was her fault - that if she hadn't been too slow to get out on her own, that if she hadn't managed to injure herself, then Augustine would not have had to carry her. He would not have had to breathe in the toxic gases, and he would be alive.

Why was she alive, and he dead? Why were any of those forced into the Arena - and they had heard more cannons over the course of the afternoon - dead? It was all for the sake of a stupid Game to punish them for something that had happened decades ago, something none of them had had any say in, and the injustice burnt brightly in her bones.

She would try to survive, though. She had to, didn't she? Augustine had sacrificed himself so that she would live, and now she _had_ to survive - not just for his sake, but for Lysandre's, to prove to her mentor that Augustine hadn't died for nothing.

But how was she supposed to do that, with all of the odds against them?

"Lysandre?" she finally said, slowly and shakily, clinging on to the collar of his coat, feeling very much like a burden.

He made a wordless sound of confirmation that he had heard her, not looking away from the path they were following.

"What do we do now?" she asked softly, resting her chin on his shoulder. "It's nearly dark - do we stop for the night?"

Lysandre exhaled slowly, and she could feel some of the tension slipping away at the distraction, because if she could not stop thinking about the events of that afternoon, she knew Lysandre must have been feeling ten times worse. "Yes, I think we should find some shelter," he said evenly. "The temperature is likely to drop when it gets dark, and Incendie -" The Pyroar, walking between Lysandre and Serena, gave a friendly huff at the sound of his name - "Will not be able to keep us warm if we do not find somewhere secure to sleep."

Serena raised her hand tentatively, as if she was back in school, and Shauna almost managed a smile at the gesture. "Should we find water, too?" she asked, "I'm - well, I'm kind of thirsty."

Immediately, Shauna wriggled around to remove the pack on her back. "Here, there's still some water in mine, you can have it." The smile on her face was quavery, but good enough, she decided. "It's not like I'm doing a lot."

And enough people had already been hurt because of her. If she could help Serena like that, then she would. She would do whatever it took.

"Thanks," Serena said gratefully, and drained the few mouthfuls left.

Shauna felt another stab of guilt. She was the one riding in relative comfort on Lysandre's back, wrapped in Augustine's coat for extra warmth - Serena had no choice but to walk, and Lysandre not only had to walk but carry her as well. And she knew she didn't weigh much, but even her small weight must have added to Lysandre's burden significantly - she knew he was tired, knew he was beginning to become dehydrate, and she felt her eyes prickling with hot tears.

Why couldn't she stop hurting people? Why was she slowing them down so much, or causing their deaths? Augustine should have left her in the forest.

But she was alive and he was dead, and she owed her life to him. She would have to keep going, just to prove that it wasn't for nothing.

They found water and shelter nigh simultaneously, finding a short stream, partially iced over but some parts still flowing, that led past the mouth of a cave. It was barely a cave, honestly, more like a hollow in the rock - but it would be sufficient for their needs, enough to keep them warm through the night.

Drinking their fill, they retreated to the cave, Incendie helping them start the fire. There, they ate a meagre dinner of leftover sitrus berries, dried fruit and nuts, and the crackers, oranges, and ration bars that Steven had managed to give them that morning.

"There's not a lot of food left," Serena said worriedly as she packed their belongs back in their packs, "I think we'd have enough for the morning, but that's it."

Lysandre nodded once, slowly. "That is fine. We'll find more tomorrow. We -"

He cut himself off suddenly; the anthem had begun.

Soberly, they watched the faces flash up on the screen. Leaf - the first casualty from Kanto. Nate - Western Unova was now totally eliminated, Nate joining Rosa and Roxie, casualties of the Cornucopia. Korrina, the girl from Coastal Kalos, the second Kalosian Tribute to lose their life. And Augustine, and Shauna reached for Lysandre's hand, holding on to comfort herself and to try to comfort him.

Turning back to Serena to let Lysandre dry his eyes in peace, Shauna gave the other girl a wavery smile. "Maybe we can find some more berries," she suggested, "I'll keep my eyes peeled! If I'm on Lysandre's back, I don't really have to look where I'm going, right? So I can keep a watch out and be useful!"

Oops - she hadn't meant to add that last part.

Slowly, like a Dwebble emerging from its shell, Lysandre turned back to them. "It won't be too much of a problem," he said wearily, "We can find food. We should stay together to keep warm tonight."

He settled in the back of the cave, gesturing for Incendie to move in front of them, and hooked one of the blankets up on a protruding rock. Now, they had a warm little enclave, and Lysandre gestured them into it silently.

"They can't see us now," he whispered as soon as they were both inside, "And with the fire going, if we stay quiet, they won't be able to hear us. Tomorrow, around the middle of the day, we are going to escape the Arena."

Shauna gave him a wide-eyed stare, not trusting her voice to say anything.

"This has been in the works for years," he told them urgently, "And now we are finally able to put it into motion. The plan is for our allies to break open the side of the Arena so we may meet a hovercraft, where we will then escape. This will be televised, thanks to some of the rebels working in broadcasting, and we will issue an open challenge for every region held by the Capitol to reject their values. We will then escape and prepare to take the fight to the Capitol."

"Did Augustine know about this?" Serena asked softly, "Is that why he told us to - to do that?"

Lysandre nodded gravely. "All of the victors selected to go back in are members of the rebellion - we can only suspect that our numbers have been found out. Over the course of the past few days, others were meant to leave, but - I fear many of them may have already been detained or killed." He let out a slow breath. "It is - risky. But it's something that needs to be done. We didn't plan for the Quell twist, though - we were going to try to guide you from the outside, send you messages with your sponsor gifts. We didn't count on them trying to kill us in here directly."

A sudden nasty thought occurred to Shauna, and she bit down on her lip savagely. All of the victors who were in the Arena were rebels, Lysandre had said - four of them were already gone, but that still left Lysandre, Janine from Kanto, Steven from Hoenn, Valerie from Coastal Kalos - and N. N Harmonia, from Eastern Unova, the son of President Ghetsis Harmonia.

"Does that mean," she whispered, feeling sick, "That President Harmonia is trying to _kill his own son_?" With a wince, Lysandre nodded. "That's _horrible_!"

"It is. He knew that N had rebellion sympathies even as a teenager - that was the entire reason he was Reaped in the first place." Lysandre let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He never realised that his only son could talk to Pokemon, and he never realised that they would flock to him and keep him safe against the other Tributes and the muttations. He never intended for N to survive the first Games, and now that he has, he's trying again."

Shauna cringed. "He's _vile_ ," he said in a hissing whisper, and Lysandre actually laughed softly, tinged with bitterness.

"You don't even know the _half_ of it."

A nasty silence fell before Serena sighed, bringing them back to the topic at hand. "So what happens tomorrow?" she asked quietly, "Will they break open the Arena near us? What about the other Tributes?"

"We have a rendezvous point," Lysandre confirmed. "Right at the boundary of the Arena. We must be extraordinarily careful - first, the Capitol will realise that we are assembling and may try to target all of us at once, second, we need to actually _find_ it - it's the westernmost point of the Arena, so we must watch what direction the sun rises in and then hope that the sun here mimics the sun in the real world - and third, we must ensure that we do not go too far and hit the forcefield."

"It sounds dangerous," Shauna said softly.

"It will likely be the most dangerous thing any of us will have ever faced in our lives."

So there was no pressure, then.

Lysandre glanced between them. "Do you have anything else to say?" he asked them softly, and they both shook their heads. "Good. I will take the blanket down, then." And he reached up and unhitched it, saying out loud, "You are correct, it is stifling like this. There is a difference between keeping warm and cooking ourselves, is there not?"

"Yeah," Serena said with a sigh, mopping her bangs off her face. "Well, I'm sure we'll be okay with the fire and with your Pyroar, right?"

"Right!" Shauna echoed with a smile, "And we can all huddle together for warmth!"

It wasn't so bad like this, she decided as they settled down, curled up against Serena, Lysandre keeping the first watch nearby and Incendie extending a bubble of warm air around him. They could rest, then, in the morning, they could fight to survive, to escape, to bring the fight to the Capitol, and to do precisely what Augustine had told them to do with his dying breath.

They were going to stop the Hunger Games.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: violence, character death

**Chapter Seventeen**

The Capitol was waging war on them.

Narrowly dodging a jet of flame from Incendie that barbecued the nearest Pansage-mutt, Lysandre swore as he felt another clutch at his hair, and he grabbed the knife in his belt to swing at it. A few strands of red floated down along with a rather dead muttation that was once a Panpour, and he spun around to catch another preparing to spray a jet of water at Incendie.

Releasing Espoir, he shouted an urgent command - "Get the Pansears!" - and then kicked one that had tried to scramble up his leg.

Espoir could take care of the Pansears, and Incendie, aided by Serena's now-Braixen, were making short work of the Pansages. That left a single Chespin - no, he stood corrected, the sudden glow meant that it was now a single Quilladin - and the three humans to take care of the Panpours, trying to avoid getting drenched, trying to protect their Fire types from the deluge.

Serena let out a yelp as a Pansear latched on to her backpack, and she flung it off violently, screaming as it pulled out a pawful of hair at the same time. She kicked at it hard, sending it backing off, growling menacingly, and then it lunged forward and dove for her throat.

Incendie sprung, pinning the other Fire type beneath his huge paws, and with one quick swipe, rid them of the threat.

"Thanks!" she gasped, shouting an urgent, "Lysandre, behind you!" as she spun around. He leaped aside as a Pansear aimed a fireball at him, Espoir's jet of water sending it flying into a tree with a crack.

"There's more coming!" Shauna wailed from her position clinging to a tree, "We have to get out of here!"

With a nod, Lysandre recalled Espoir, seized Shauna around the waist, and set her unceremoniously on Incendie's back. "He's quicker," he explained hastily as she called her Quilladin back, "Run!"

They ran.

Evidently, the muttation monkeys had a specific range. Once they passed beyond the boundary of the forest, they did not continue to pursue them, howling in rage at their rapidly departing would-be victims, and yet they did not slow down until they were a good half-mile from the forest boundary.

"I think we lost them," Serena groaned, dropping herself to the ground. "Unfortunately, I think we also lost our packs."

A quick inspection proved this statement correct - all that remained was the one Shauna had held, containing a length of rope, a single flask of water, the empty metal tin, and two Poke Balls. It was not exactly a promising collection, and Lysandre sighed, scratching absently at his leg, where the Basculin bites were starting to bleed again through the makeshift bandages.

"Well, hopefully we'll find more items soon," he sighed. "Maybe we could go back to the Cornucopia and see if there's anything left." He gave the two girls a pointed look, inclining his head, very slightly, to the west, and they both nodded in understanding.

There would be no more Cornucopias. There would be, if they were successful, no more Cornucopia bloodbaths, not ever again. They were hours away from the breaching of the Arena, and all they had to do was survive.

Survive, like so many hadn't. His left hand tightened, the two rings on his ring finger tight against his skin.

With Shauna on Incendie's back, they could move a little quicker, Lysandre on one side and Serena on the other. Shauna, only having to balance in place, could keep a careful eye out for anything of note, and they could make for the westernmost point of the Arena, ever so subtly, winding and weaving to throw off the Gamemakers but heading inexorably west.

_Just keep walking. Don't think about him. Just focus on keeping the girls safe. Just focus on getting out. Just keep walking. Don't think about him..._

It was easier said than done. Augustine had been there, a constant and reassuring presence, for over half his life. Lysandre kept the hand not resting in Incendie's mane held clenched shut, pressing the rings hard against his flesh, fearing that if he let his hand fall loose he would feel phantom fingers curled around it.

Augustine had always seen himself as weak - knowledgeable and intelligent, certainly, but a poor battler, unable to wield a weapon effectively, uncoordinated and overly emotional, believing that the cheerful and confident face he presented to the world to hide the hurt in his clear grey eyes was pure fabrication. And Lysandre knew with a certainty that he would not be alive without him. Augustine had been the emotional heart of the relationship, the one able to calm Lysandre down from his rages and passionate anger and fury and hurt, and he was stronger than he had ever thought himself to be.

Without Augustine and his kindness and compassion and his achingly big heart, Lysandre was very, very positive about the fact that he would be dead, either at his own hand or at the Capitol's after he lashed out at them one too many times.

He loved Augustine more than he loved himself, tainted and polluted by the anger in his soul. He loved Augustine more than any other living being in the world, more than the world itself, with a passion that was consuming and painful, and now that he was gone, he could see no more future for himself.

He would help secure a new world for all of them. And then he could not imagine his life continuing beyond that.

What future was there, for people like him?

"Shauna! Lysandre!" came a sudden call, and he jerked his head up to find Trevor racing towards him.

"Trevor!" Shauna cried, unable to run back towards her region partner but certainly waving enthusiastically. Close behind the boy was the remains of Coastal Kalos - Valerie, her Sylveon close on her heels, and Tierno, grinning and waving.

Leaving the children to chatter excitedly, Lysandre turned back to his fellow victor, taking in the scratches and bruises, her mussed and tangled hair. "Lysandre, I'm so sorry," she said in her soft, silvery voice, reaching up (and up - Valerie was not very tall) to squeeze his arm gently. "How are you doing?"

He shrugged once. "As well as can be expected," he managed gruffly. "I am certain that Grant and Siebold must be feeling very fortunate right now that you are alright."

More fortunate than he felt. More fortunate than Eusine would be feeling, having already watched Morty's death.

"We'll see," she said ominously, shaking her head. "I have already seen Eastern Unova. They are still all together, and they are unharmed. N has his Zoroark, and the twins have their Servine and Pignite."

He nodded once. "The girls have the second evolution of their starters, too. What of Trevor and his Pikachu?"

It was Trevor who answered that one, his shoulders slumping. "I lost him," he admitted quietly. "When we fell. His ball fell really far down, I have no idea where it is."

Lysandre dropped a hand to his shoulder. "The Capitol will retrieve him," he said reassuringly. "Their Pokemon division is made up of good people - he will not be mistreated at all and will be well cared for. Like Incendie," he added, stroking the Pyroar's mane.

Trevor managed the ghost of a smile. "That's good. He was a cool little guy."

"All right!" Tierno called out, and all eyes turned to him. "I think we should make like a tree and leave, huh?" He paused, then added, "You know what? That joke really doesn't work in Kalosian. Anyway, we should get going!"

"Good idea," Serena sighed, and straightened up, turning to find the direction of the artificial sun to gauge their direction.

It promptly went out.

"What the fu-- I mean, what the heck?!" Tierno exclaimed, turning up to gaze at the sky. "Hey! What gives?"

"They're trying to misdirect us." Lysandre's voice was grim, his hands shaking at his sides. "They're trying to throw off our sense of direction. We can orient ourselves with the landscape, at least - I believe we are meant to be going in that direction."

He pointed, very deliberately, at an angle away from west, grateful he had at least got some idea of the layout of the land before they had turned the sun off. And the sky, at least, was clear - their visibility was good.

As if in answer to his very thoughts, it started snowing, falling in light drifts at first before coming down harder and harder.

Shauna had the only really appropriate response to their new situation. " _Great_ ," she said, voice heavy with sarcasm. "You have _got_ to be kidding me!"

"I doubt it," Lysandre answered dryly.

Valerie hitched up the hood of her jacket, tucking her long hair back in the fabric. "Well, let's get walking anyway!" she said cheerily, "The more we walk, the warmer we will be!"

Her words were, regretfully, prophetic. They had only been walking for a few minutes when it was high noon again, the temperature ramping up substantially, the snow at their feet beginning to melt rapidly. Soon, they were soaked, both from the melted snow swirling around their feet and dripping from the trees, and from the sweat under their heavy clothing - which was what made it particularly unpleasant when the temperature dropped back down to freezing again, leaving them chilled to the bone and disoriented as the sun sank rapidly back down to sunset - or perhaps sunrise, none of them were sure.

Lysandre continued to press on undeterred, a miserable Incendie occasionally letting out a bout of fire to melt a path up ahead, the snow piling up with unnatural swiftness.

And then it simply... stopped.

The snow stopped falling, the temperature rose, the run returned to its rightful place in the sky, glinting off the ice that coated the trees. Ahead was the flicker of the forcefield - and others, N and the Eastern Unovan twins, Janine and the boy from Kanto, clutching his own Pikachu to his chest, and, hurrying up to them, Steven, accompanied by the little girl from Sinnoh and May, Norman's daughter.

"All here?" Steven asked as he drew near, "I, for one, will be extremely glad to get out of this snow, Hoennites are _not_ built for this weather." Dropping a hand to Lysandre's arm, his expression turned sober. "Lysandre, I'm so sorry," he added quietly, and Lysandre turned away sharply, no longer in the mood for pity.

Let him mourn later.

"Trackers," Janine told them, hurrying over with a pocket knife and several bandages in her hands. "Sorry, this will hurt, but it's necessary."

Lysandre bore the pain, wrapping the bandage around his arm and reassuring the girls as they had their own removed, and glanced around at the group to count them off. "Everyone who isn't dead yet is accounted for," he said, voice brittle. "We must be on our guard."

And with the most perfect dramatic timing he could have conceived of, all hell broke loose.

The side of the Arena exploded inwards, forcefield holding just long enough to force the rubble to drop harmlessly to the ground. They had counted on this, and Lysandre helped Shauna to her feet, recalling Incendie with a grim smile. They were coming, the Arena had been breached, they were able to go free, and those closest hurried towards the gap -

And the Peacekeepers stepped out and opened fire.

Yanking Shauna behind a tree so quickly he nearly slammed her against it, Lysandre let out a snarl as he hurled the knife he held in their direction. One fell with a gurgle, Lysandre released his two Pokemon, and the fight was on.

How had they known? But then, how had they not known? Their plans had been hasty and he suspected they had been known to the Capitol almost from the start, and Lysandre was grim-faced as he directed attacks from Incendie and Espoir, shielding the girls and the other Tributes as much as possible, quietly glad, just for half a second, that at least Augustine was not here to be put in harm's way.

Because he could not possibly have been any more harmed than he already was. Right.

Their timing hadn't been so off, after all - shots were fired from _behind_ the Peacekeepers, some sprawling in the snow and not getting up again. They had been beaten by the Peacekeepers by only moments, it seemed, and now the rebellion was here - Lysandre caught an alarming glimpse of Clay, one of the Western Unova victors, wielding a machine gun, and ducked as it turned a nearby tree to sawdust.

"Get on the hovercraft!" shouted an urgent voice that Lysandre only vaguely recognised, "All Tributes, go!"

"Move!" he shouted, hoisting Shauna out of the gap and in to - thank Arceus! - Drasna's arms. Turning to Serena, he turned sharply as Valerie screamed, one of the Peacekeepers clamping a hand over her mouth and twisting her arms behind her, and his eyes widened as the distraction allowed one of the others to aim his gun at Serena's head.

He twisted hard, stumbling forward at the impact like a hammer's blow against his shoulder blade, a hiss of pain escaping his lips. "Lysandre!" Serena gasped, and he shoved her at the breach.

"Never mind, go!" he told her, turning back to find Trevor only to be pulled into the waiting hovercraft himself. "Wait - Trevor!"

"We'll get them!" another rebel called, their voice sounding very far away now. Lysandre was swaying, beginning to grow light-headed from blood loss, struggling weakly against the hands pulling on him to lie down.

From within the Arena was a gunshot and a cry of agony, Koga's voice screaming his daughter's name, Janine's muffled sobs of, "Papa, Papa, it hurts," Koga's reassurances that he had her, that he would not leave her, Koga's voice, calm and weary, telling that they might as well go ahead, another gunshot, and then the hovercraft was lurching and starting to move, the door sliding shut, and he knew that they hadn't all made it, that there were some left behind, but the Peacekeepers were almost on them, trying to jam the door open, and then they dropped back down to Earth and they flew.

Because there was nothing left to do, they flew.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

Huddled in a corner in the crowded hovercraft, noise and movement around her, Shauna drew her legs tighter to her chest and whimpered softly.

They had escaped the Arena, and that was something worthy of celebration, she supposed. Still, she never felt less safe and certain - not with the confusion around her, not with the slowly dawning realisation that Lysandre had been shot, that the mentor from Kanto and her father were dead, and that nearly half a dozen of them had been captured.

Trevor. The Capitol had Trevor, and Valerie, and the boy from Kanto, and the volunteer girl from Eastern Unova, and Dawn, the little girl from Sinnoh that Shauna had curled up next to to sleep, what felt like a lifetime ago.

At least Lysandre's wounds weren't life-threatening, she thought muzzily. He had been shot in the back protecting Serena, but the bullet (she had heard) had glanced off his shoulder blade and he would heal with no further complications.

It was the boy from Eastern Unova she felt the worst for - he had a heavy concussion, gained by a blow with the butt of a rifle while trying to get to the sister who had volunteered to protect him.

But they had made it. They had made it, and they were (mostly) alive, and they were on their way to a place called Orre that Shauna had never actually heard of, on the same continent as Unova and the Capitol but far out of its reach.

She hoped. She really, really hoped.

"Hey, Spoinktails."

Spoinktails? Shauna blinked in surprise, glancing up to find a man peering down at her, a streak of bright blonde in his otherwise dark hair, giving her a friendly smile. "Um - hi?" she said tentatively.

He grinned back at her reassuringly. "Are you okay to walk? Lysandre asked me to check up on you and take you to the medical wing, he said you hurt your foot."

"Oh... I can limp, I think." She tried to push herself up, flailed a little, then finally took the offered hand with a sigh, allowing the man to pull her to her feet. "Um, I'm Shauna."

"I know," he said lightly, offering her an arm. "Hiroshi Uratane. I'm a friend of Lysandre's and -" He hesitated very briefly. "Augustine's."

Immediately, her shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry," she whispered, then sighed and added, "I'm really - I'm really sorry. He only - it was because he was trying to save me -"

"Yeah, the Games suck." He shook his head, cutting off any further apologies. "Don't beat yourself up over it, okay? Here we are!"

Shauna glanced up, finding herself in the makeshift medical wing. Lysandre was there, lying with his shoulder bandaged and staring tiredly at the ceiling, the concussed Eastern Unovan boy sleeping on the other bed. Looking up as they entered, Lysandre managed to give her a tired smile.

"Thank you for bringing her, Hiroshi," he said, his voice weary and a little slurred - they must have given him painkillers, she reasoned. Hiroshi gently led Shauna to a seat, and then went to perch on the end of Lysandre's bed, petting his leg.

"It's all good," he said with a smile and a wink. "No trouble at all. Right, Spoinktails?"

She giggled a little, despite herself. "Right."

The single doctor there checked over her soon enough, bandaging her wounds more properly and wrapping a stiff plastic brace around her foot, which, she proclaimed, had a cracked bone. It would heal so long as she kept her weight off it, and she provided Shauna with a pair of crutches, also letting Lysandre check out so long as he didn't do anything too strenuous.

Slowly, the two (Hiroshi had left a little while earlier) made their way back down the hall to the main body of the hovercraft, where the Tributes, mentors, and assorted other rebels were gathered. There were seats, but not enough, and Shauna found herself ushered to one of the only ones remaining, Serena leaning on the back of her chair and her presence reassuring.

"How are you feeling?" Serena murmured.

Shauna shrugged back. "Okay. I have a broken foot. And Hiroshi nicknamed me Spoinktails."

"I like Shaunee better," came Tierno's voice from nearby, and Shauna turned to give the other Kalosian a quick hug. He grinned weakly back, some of his confidence erased by the death of his region mate and the capture of his mentor _and_ Trevor. "All right, you two?"

"As well as we can be," Serena shrugged. "So what happened with you guys?"

"Oh, well..."

Swapping stories was a nice diversion, although Shauna found herself choking up when it came to explaining what had happened when they had encountered the Weezing nest. Serena provided that part of the tale, slowly rubbing Shauna's back through her shirt (their heavy jackets discarded in a pile and hopefully never to be needed again), and Shauna kept her head bowed, her fingers tight around the hem of her shirt.

Lysandre had disappeared a little while earlier, but now he returned, moving painfully and carefully, his arm stiff against his side. "I have word from ahead," he told them wearily, "We've been in contact with Orre and with one of the other hovercrafts - most of the members of the rebellion made it out." He hesitated briefly, then added, "But not everyone."

"Who?" Serena asked simply, and he gave her a sideways glance.

"You won't know all these names, but you will know Olympia's, and Shauna will know Wulfric's. They - didn't make it."

An icy clawed hand gripped Shauna's chest and squeezed, hard.

"And two others - Lance, he was the other mentor for Kanto. And Drayden - he wasn't a victor, but he _was_ a good friend. He worked with the Pokemon that go into the Arena - apparently, it was he who arranged for Incendie to be placed back in there after the award show."

Lysandre looked tired, Shauna noted; tired and sad.

"Many made it out. Of those on this craft, you've met Hiroshi. He is the boyfriend of my cousin in Kanto, and he and Augustine were at university together. He is a good friend. Serena, Drasna is here as well. There is Clay, from Western Unova... Cynthia, the Sinnoh mentor... Alexa, one of the other Central victors... Fennel and Amanita, they are sisters who worked to ensure that the right things were broadcast... and you remember Diantha. We have also had word that others have escaped - Skyla and Hugh from Western Unova, Elesa - she is a Capitol model, but uses her connections to aid us - Aurea and Rowan, two of the Pokemon wranglers, and Iris, Drayden's apprentice. One last member of the rebellion, Rood, has opted to stay behind and do what he can to help. He is one of the Gamemakers, and it was he who was trying to help us as much he could, but there was not much he could do against five others who _were_ all trying to kill us."

Shauna frowned mentally tallying names in her head. That was almost all of the Kalosians accounted for, except... "What about Grant? The Coastal guy?" she asked cautiously.

"Captured." Lysandre's voice was hard and brittle. "Along with Siebold and Valerie, and along with Clair and Eusine of Johto and Wallace, a stylist from Hoenn. If you see Steven, be kind to him, he and Wallace are..."

He trailed off, not needing to continue the sentence.

Silently, Shauna nodded, swinging her good foot. "How are - how are you doing?" she asked, as quiet and as tentative as someone poking at a nest of angry Beedrills.

"I am fine."

Shauna and Serena stared at him dubiously, and Serena piped up, "Taurosshit."

Finally defeated, Lysandre shook his head. "I do not wish to talk about it," he finally admitted. "What happened is still far too soon to even think about. All I wish to do is focus on what will happen in the near future."

"What _are_ we doing?" piped up Tierno, silent until now. "I mean, all Val said is that we've gotta bust out of the Arena, and we've done that. So where are we going? What are our next moves?"

"Orre, someone said?" Shauna volunteered with a frown. "I don't really know where that is, though."

Lysandre made a sound of confirmation, looking a little more settled, a little less wild and sad around the eyes, now that he had a solid concept to talk about. "Orre is on the western side of the continent, and well out of the Capitol's jurisdiction," he explained. "However, it will not be entirely safe - the area is a desert and the conditions outside are harsh. The rebellion has a safe base there, but it will be dangerous in the extreme to venture outside - and not just because of the climate."

Perhaps some of Shauna's dubiousness showed on her face - what could possibly be more dangerous than the Arena, a death trap filled with poisonous, carnivorous, very pointy muttations, or walls of fire, or a sun that could turn on and off at will?

"More dangerous than the Arena?" Serena asked skeptically, and Shauna silently thanked her fellow Tribute.

"Perhaps not as dangerous as the Arena," Lysandre conceded. "But there is one disadvantage of being outside of the Capitol's jurisdiction, and that is that Orre is lawless. There is a high degree of organised crime, and, well, our faces are known all over the world. In a legal sense, the authorities in Orre may not be able to turn us away - but quite frankly, there is always the possibility of someone spotting us and deciding to sell us out to the Capitol for money."

"Ugh."

"Indeed." Lysandre sighed, shaking his head. "But it is a risk we will have to take. We need time to gather and recoup while we prepare."

Shauna and Serena swapped glances, Shauna biting her lip nervously. Preparations? She remembered Augustine's words, about taking the fight to the Capitol, and nodded slowly. "Preparations?" she asked tentatively.

"Preparations," Lysandre repeated, and his jaw set. "To strike back at the Capitol - and to take back everyone they took from us."


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Non-graphic discussion of forced prostitution, including of minors

**Chapter Nineteen**

" _Papa!_ "

"Haruka! My Haruka!"

Serena smiled involuntarily as the Hoenn girl flung herself into her father's arms, both teary, May sobbing audibly. It wasn't all bad, not at all, not if there were reunions like this. She could remember the video of Reaping Day all too clearly, May's father - Norman, was it? - screaming as his daughter was called up, and was glad that this at least had a happy ending, Norman stroking May's hair and murmuring that she was safe now.

"I thought her name was May," Shauna puzzled from behind her. "Didn't she say her name was May? How come her father called her Haruka?"

"The Capitol prefers Unovanised names," Lysandre said dryly from behind them. "Most Kalosian names are easy enough for them, but citizens of Nihon often have both an Unovan name and a Nihonic name. Norman, too - his other name is Senri, but to the Capitol, he is simply Norman."

Serena turned away from the reunion, her brow furrowed in uncertainty. She knew, intimately, that the Capitol controlled their entire lives - but to the point of controlling their names, too? It was a show of arrogance that sat badly with her, especially the slow realisation that she and Shauna were not unaffected as well. Their names were not natively Kalosian, and the thought that the Capitol had controlled her life even down to her own name was... unsettling.

"They did mangle your name a bit with the announcements," she said with a faint, wry smile, shaking her head. "Well, what do we do now?"

"Now, we get room assignments." Lysandre led them over to a table, where a harried-looking woman sat taking down names in a large notepad. Serena swapped a glance with Shauna - they didn't even have computers here? "Would you and Shauna like to share a room?" he asked, "You will be matched with two other girls or women."

"Oh... okay," Serena murmured, glancing at Shauna. "Shaunee?"

Shauna smiled back, reaching for Serena's hand. "I'd like that!"

Their roommates turned out to be Iris, a fourteen-year-old Capitolite girl who worked directly with the Pokemon, a little withdrawn after the death of her mentor but otherwise friendly, and Cynthia, a woman in her thirties that Serena recognised as the other mentor from Sinnoh. Cynthia was a friend of Lysandre's (and, to Serena's sadness, of Augustine's), he explained, having won the thirtieth Games at just fifteen years old.

Twenty years of Games. Serena could not help but wonder how much the Capitol had damaged her, too, like they damaged everyone around them. It had been a long time since Sinnoh had won.

The rooms were small but comfortable enough, two sturdy bunk beds and a neat wooden wardrobe pushed against the walls, a little table and two chairs in a corner, and a woven rug on the floor. There were no windows, most of the complex buried in the cliff, but the lights were bright enough. Serena climbed cautiously up to one of the top bunks as Shauna flopped on the one beneath her, Iris literally flipping herself on to the other top bunk and Cynthia sitting rather more sedately on the other bottom one.

"Oh," Serena uttered softly as Cynthia and Iris began placing their belongings in the wardrobe, "Um, Shauna and I don't have anything aside from what we're wearing, and our Pokemon. Um - what are we meant to wear?"

If nothing else, after three days in the same uniform, she was in desperate need of a shower.

Cynthia glanced up from folding one of her shirts, giving them both a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, there's a lot of you in the same boat! There's a storage centre on this level with a lot of donated items - you see, we were expecting this. They'll have some clothing for you, toiletries, a towel, all sorts of things."

"Great!" Shauna enthused, reaching for her crutches. "I need a shower really bad, I probably _reek_."

Well, she wasn't going to say anything, but Serena did hide a smile.

The stores were easy enough to find, and they were both handed a toiletries kit - basic, but usable. From the clothing selection, they were able to scrounge up a good handful of outfits in their sizes. Showering in the wash room was heavenly, and Serena let herself lean against the wall, luxuriate in the hot water, and watch the filth of the Arena swirl down the drain.

Washed and dried, her Arena uniform dumped to be never seen again (aside from the boots, which were nice and sturdy), hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a t-shirt, Serena felt almost human again.

Offering Shauna a smile as they departed the wash room, Serena stretched a little, her toiletries bag swinging in her hand. "I hope we can get something to eat soon," she said, then flushed as her stomach chimed in on the topic (very loudly). "I mean, it'll be nice having something other than nuts and ration bars, right?"

"Definitely!" Shauna laughed, concentrating on manoeuvring on the crutches. "I want fresh bread - and juice - and chocolate!"

It was almost normal. Almost like spending time with a friend, chattering about what was for dinner, washed and in clean clothes. It was easy to not think about the fact that they had been in the Arena just that morning, or that they had seen their mentor slit his throat barely twenty-four hours earlier, or that some of their friends were now captive, or that they were some of the few survivors of a battle to the death.

They rounded a corner, almost collided with Lysandre and Diantha, and reality flooded back.

"Ah, Shauna, Serena." He looked tired, she noted, tired and sad, even if he looked better with a shower and a fresh change of clothes. "Diantha was just explaining her part in the events last night - she is responsible for us being here now, largely."

"Oh - what did you do?" Shauna asked curiously, and Diantha gave her a warm smile.

"Well, you know how I host the recap show!" Both girls nodded - Diantha's recap shows were required viewing during the Games. She smiled again, but this time, it was tinged with grief, and Serena abruptly remembered that she and Augustine had been good friends. "We recap each of the - the events of the day. And, well, defiance isn't well received. They weren't broadcasting live, there's always a delay so they can edit out anything that would be seen as... encouraging rebellion."

Serena and Shauna swapped glances. "Everything that Augustine said," Serena concluded quietly. _Make sure that the Hunger Games never happens again._ Of course they would have stopped that from going to air.

Diantha nodded soberly. "Almost everything. They kept part of the goodbye, but not his instructions to you. And they cut the entirety of - of his message to the Capitol. This was the version I was meant to air during the recap show."

"But she didn't," Lysandre continued, his voice barely held together. "Rood - he was one of the Gamemakers, but he's also one of us. He gave Diantha the true recording."

She nodded again, a blazing look in her eye. "I showed the censored footage, and then I explained that I had 'accidentally' shown the wrong video. And Amanita and Fennel, our tech experts, played the real thing. And then we fled, because, well - did you hear what he said? After you parted ways?"

Everything that they had stolen from him. Serena nodded, her gaze downcast. _Childhood, innocence, dignity, security, hope, future, life._ "Yeah, we heard it," she whispered.

"It's started uprisings," Lysandre said evenly. "In all of the regions held by the Capitol. Everyone is beginning to fight back. Because of Diantha. Because of Fennel and Amanita. Because of Augustine, because of his sacrifice." His voice cracked a little, and Diantha gave his arm a little squeeze.

There was nothing Serena could find to say to that. She was glad that they had found a purpose for Augustine's death, but - he had had to die in the first place for that to happen. The Capitol had stolen his life and it had been their doom, but still... still, it should not have come to this.

"Lysandre?" Shauna asked tentatively, and he glanced down at her. "U-um - it's about something that Augustine said -" She cleared her throat uncertainly, then forced out, "What did he mean, when he said that the Capitol - uh - whored him out to the highest bidder? Was that just, like - a metaphor or something?"

Lysandre hesitated, visibly wavering, and Diantha touched his arm gently. "You don't have to tell them," she said gently, and he shook his head.

"No, they should know what the Capitol does. If either of them had been the Victor, the same would have happened to them." He turned to them, then said, frankly, "He was speaking literally. Many of the Victors - especially those who are seen as desirable - are... used by the Capitol. We are seen as the entertainment at their parties, are given as a gift for the evening to those who have won favour with the President, or our... services are paid for." Lysandre sighed, pressing his fingers against his eyes. "And we must comply and pretend that their advances are wanted and desired, or they kill our loved ones. The only way to escape is to make yourself so undesirable that they will not want you, or to have no one left at all who may be threatened."

Ringing silence met this announcement, Serena wide-eyed and aghast as she covered her mouth with one hand.

Augustine had been literal when he had said that the Capitol had whored him out. They had taken Victors and turned them into - into - "They do that to you?" she whispered in horror, "Is that what happens? You win the Games, you grow up, and then they do - they do _that_ to you?"

"Oh, no," Lysandre said grimly. "They don't wait for you to grow up first. I was only sixteen when it started."

Shauna made a sound of distress and immediately threw her arms around Lysandre's waist, hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry!" she whispered, "I shouldn't have asked, I -"

"Do not concern yourself," he said with a sigh, dropping a hand to her hair. "You should know that this is what the Capitol does. I am only relieved that the same did not happen to you, had either of you been the Victor in a less... interrupted Games."

Serena felt a sudden fierce tug of nausea, clamping her lips shut as the image of lecherous Capitol elites reaching for her hit her with a suddenness that was almost physical. "Thank you," she told them both sincerely, "For getting us out."

He managed a smile, small and weak as it was. "You are the first Tributes in history to have a future. You should feel fortunate - for most, having your name called out on Reaping Day means your life is over. Most die in the Arena. The rest die a slow death as the Capitol turns them into a plaything and a commodity - a marionette, with the Capitol pulling our strings. What happened to us in the past was an injustice. Now, we will make them pay for it."

Slowly, Shauna detached herself, clinging to her crutches for stability. "I will," she said shakily, "I promise. I'm not gonna let them hurt anyone ever again."

Lysandre gave her another smile, more genuine and warm. "You will make a good revolutionary, Shauna."

Serena watched him and felt an aching sort of sadness for Lysandre, and Augustine, and for all the Victors. She felt ashamed to the point of sickness at her earlier misconceptions, the stories about Augustine's many lovers in the Capitol, how she herself had described him as 'kind of slutty'.

She had had no idea. Not a single clue that they could force him into something like this, and to present it as willing and enthusiastic when it was anything but. Her eyes prickled and she blinked back tears, drawing a steadying breath in and then out again.

"We'll stop them," she said, and her voice quavered but did not crack. "We'll make them answerable for it and make sure it never happens again. And then the Capitol will never be able to hurt anyone ever again."


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Non-explicit/offscreen forced prostitution and rape (including of underaged teenagers), offscreen underaged (16) consensual sex, discussion of suicide

**Chapter Twenty**

Lysandre stared at the wall and waited for his shoulder to stop throbbing.

The blasted thing. He had absolutely no regrets doing what he had done, saving Serena's life by taking the bullet meant for her, but the end result was pain, a lack of mobility, and, most distressingly of all, a blanket ban on anything strenuous.

And apparently being a part of the raiding party to retrieve the captives taken by the Capitol definitely came under the banner of 'strenuous'.

He was alone for now, left in the stiflingly small room he shared with Steven and Hiroshi (and later, they hoped, Wallace). Both had been cleared to be a part of the raiding party, and Lysandre honestly did not think anything short of locking him up in chains could have prevented Steven from leaping to Wallace's rescue, but that meant that he was stuck in his room while they participated in talking and planning.

Mingling with the others in the base? He could not take the attention any longer, the sympathetic looks, the sincerely asked, "Are you alright?"s and the fleeting relief he saw on all of them when he muttered that he was fine.

The girls? They were too young and did not understand. None of the Tributes did.

Steven and Hiroshi, Diantha and Norman and Cynthia, Drasna and Alexa - they were all a part of planning and would not be disturbed. Wallace was a captive. Wulfric was dead. Olympia was dead.

Augustine was dead.

The simple fact of the matter was that Lysandre was alone, lost without his friends and chosen family, locked out of the planning mission, and utterly without distraction to keep him from mourning and from memories.

Lysandre let out a snarl and slammed his fist against the wall, immediately regretting it as his shoulder spasmed in agony. He was helpless and hurt, curled on his side on the single bed he had been assigned, refusing to let the prickling in his eyes turn in to tears.

If he believed in spirits, he could imagine a phantom hand carding through his hair, whispering soothing things about how he was not alone. If he believed in an afterlife, he could pretend that Augustine had found some sort of happiness, loved and protected by his parents as he calmly waited for Lysandre to join him. But he believed in neither of those, and knew that his consolation was Augustine's body in a wooden box being sent back to Kalos - or, perhaps, disposed of in the Capitol, his own words making travel impossible.

He could not forget him, he never could. Augustine had been the centre of his universe from the time Lysandre had been sixteen years old, wild-eyed and with blood on his hands, a Poke Ball with a Gyarados in it on his belt, and with the surety that he had survived, he had won, and now he would never need suffer again.

_"Lysandre de Lyon?"_

_Flush with wine and victory, grinning and waving to the crowd screaming his name, Lysandre started and spun around. This was not his name spoken in adoration, but soft with concern, a tremor in the words._

_The boy facing him was a little shorter than he was, soft curling dark hair falling in his face and to the collar of his shirt. But what made Lysandre's breath catch in his throat was his eyes - clear and grey and aching, dark with worry and his brow knitted together and somehow far older and far sadder than any eighteen-year-old should look._

_"Augustine Sycamore, right?" Lysandre said evenly, inclining his head in a short bow. It was only really a question asked for the sake of courtesy - everyone knew the name and face of the last year's Victor. "May I help you?"_

_Augustine hesitated for a moment, those sad grey eyes flickering to the side once before he reached out and touched the tips of his fingers to Lysandre's wrist. "I have to talk to you," he breathed, and closed his fingers around Lysandre's hand and tugged him to a corner._

_Lysandre pulled his wrist free indignantly as soon as they were still, glaring at the other Victor. "What's the big deal?" he scowled, letting out his breath slowly as he straightened up, trying to remember all of Mama's tips about how a high-bred man should act (even one who had been robbed of their title and land). "I mean - what - what is the meaning of this?"_

_"There'll be an after-party after this one," Augustine blurted out, still glancing around them. "They'll make you go, they'll say it'll be a big honour but they'll hurt you if you refuse. And they - they'll break you. You think you've won now, but it's better to have died in the Arena, then they wouldn't have been able to - to use you, you'll just be a plaything to them -"_

_"Ah. Explaining to our new friend how things work here, are you?" came a soft, venomous voice, and a hand dropped down on Augustine's shoulder._

_The effect was instantaneous - Augustine went white, his eyes widening, tensing under the hand of the Vice President, Ghetsis Harmonia. The man was not smiling, but rather looking at them like they were pieces of meat, something to consume - or chew up and spit out._

_"What's going on?" Lysandre frowned, working hard to keep the petulance out of his voice._

_Ghetsis chuckled. "Our young friend has the basic gist of it - there will be a wonderful party later on. I do hope you can attend."_

_"He's only sixteen!" Augustine had pulled himself away, standing defensively between Lysandre and the Vice President, shielding him as best he could even with Lysandre having a good three inches of height on him. "Please don't do this!"_

_"And you were only seventeen," Ghetsis pointed out, "And Cynthia fifteen, and Steven fourteen. I fail to see your point, Augustine - you know our friends will not see his age as an obstacle. It may even be quite..." He paused significantly. "Enticing." His cold gaze turned on Lysandre, and he smiled like a snake. "I will see you both at the party. Goodbye for now, my young Victors."_

_And he swept away, leaving Lysandre with the growing sense that he was in over his head._

Augustine hadn't even known him, and he had already tried to protect him. But there was no dissuading the Capitol, no escape. There had not been any escape for Steven, not for Cynthia, not for Augustine and not for him, not for the Victors that came afterwards, not for any of them.

He had been right. The Capitol had tried to destroy him.

_They had found out that Lysandre was a virgin, and that had been the end of it._

_Lysandre stood on the makeshift stage, stripped to the waist and the auctioneer's hand on his shoulder. The lights on him were blinding, and he fought the urge to screw up his eyes, staring at the crowd in furious defiance as they bid for the right to be the first to touch him, the last image before the flood lights had switched on constantly swimming to the forefront of his mind - Augustine dragged into a chair besides one of the Capitolites, a hand closing around his wrist, and the flash of combined horror and resignation on Augustine's face as his hand was forced between the man's legs._

_Was that what was to become of him? A plaything, used for the gratification of others? Lysandre was grateful for the loose pants he wore to hide his shaking legs._

_The winning price was almost incomprehensible to Lysandre. At least he hadn't been bought cheaply, even if the fact that he had been bought at all was painful. He kept his head down as he was lead off the stage, the hand between his shoulder blades burning like a brand, and the auctioneer let out a laugh as they approached the winner._

_"Have fun, kids!" he snickered, and Lysandre raised his head in disbelief to find Augustine._

_"You?" he blurted out in sheer surprise._

_Augustine managed a smile. "There's a room at the side. Come on."_

_They reached the room, closed the door, and then Augustine slumped back on the bed, his eyes closed and his entire body radiating exhaustion. "Désolé," he said quietly, slipping back into Kalosian. "I know it's not much, but - well, at least we have a reprieve before we have to go back out there. For both of us, I mean. It'll still happen to you, but - not right away."_

_Lysandre stared at him, uncomprehending. "What?" he asked slowly, "You - just paid for my virginity, didn't you?"_

_"No, I paid for an hour of time with you." Augustine managed a smile. "Most of the sadists out there would use the time to use you. I'm going to use it to let you rest and prepare before they hurt you." He closed his eyes again, and added, "And besides, it helps me, too. It's an hour when they won't touch me, either."_

_"You paid a lot of money..." Lysandre said slowly, "Just so you could delay this a bit? That's more money than I've even heard of..."_

_Augustine shrugged, his eyes still closed. "Some of them give me money when they fuck me. It's okay, I'll make it back."_

_A hysterical laugh bubbled up from Lysandre's throat, and he felt his eyes smarting again, the laugh choking off in a sob. "You whored yourself out so I wouldn't be. That's - I - it's still going to happen, isn't it? I'm going to have to go out there and they're going to fuck me."_

_"Yeah. We're - entertainment, I guess. It's not always like this, sometimes the President will give us to people he likes as a gift, or people will pay him for us."_

_"Well, I refuse," Lysandre scowled, crossing his arms, fighting off terror with defiance. "Fuck that. I'm not going to participate."_

_Augustine opened his eyes, just for a moment, and sighed. "You have to," he said quietly, flatly. "Or they'll kill your family. I'm sorry, Lysandre. As soon as we walk out that door, they'll do it."_

_Lysandre stared down at the bed, up at the ornate decorations on the wall, the wealth and fuss of the design. He stared at Augustine, his eyes closed again, the weariness on his face, the dark curl of his hair and the thin hands folded on his stomach. They had used and abused Augustine as they would use and abuse Lysandre, and already Augustine had tried to protect him, had tried to keep him from harm._

_Lysandre made a split-second decision, and moved to straddle Augustine's hips, the other Victor's eyes flying open._

_"What if," Lysandre said, and his voice trembled. "What if I want to give you what you paid for? Because you actually care what happens to me, and -" He touched the fingers of one hand to Augustine's cheek, watched as his pulse fluttered in his throat, and managed a smile. "And - you're better-looking than most of the others out there, right?"_

_Augustine gazed back at him, his eyes wide and unguarded, and then he turned his head and pressed a kiss to Lysandre's palm. "I'll make you feel good," he whispered against Lysandre's skin, and Lysandre felt his own pulse flutter. "I promise."_

He had kept his promise. Even when the deed was done, they had remained in the room for the remainder of the hour, Lysandre's head against his shoulder and enjoying the feeling of fingers carding through his hair, watching Augustine watching him.

What had happened next had been far from ideal. But he had the memory to hold on to, the memory of Augustine touching him like he was made of glass, reverent and gentle, fingers gliding over skin that they both knew would later be bruised.

Augustine had kissed him once they were finished, just once, just softly.

And when the night was done, it was Augustine who came to him, who picked him up off the ground and supported him as they quietly returned to their rooms, who had held him in the shower as he had sobbed helplessly in rage and frustration and pain and grief for the life he had lost.

"I think that was when I fell in love with you," he had told Augustine, and with the hindsight of eighteen years, he knew now that it was true.

They had returned to Kalos, to the Victor's Villages in Lumiose City and in Kiloude, and it had not ended there, not at all. Their cities were linked by a train and Victors held special privilege, and it was no big task for Lysandre to visit the city and spend hours in Augustine's company, parting with tentative kisses and shy smiles.

That first year, Lysandre was not called back to the Capitol until his Victory Tour. He had known what to expect, this time around, and he knew that Augustine would be there to pick him up off the floor, to help clean the stain and pollution from his skin, able to offer comfort as well (because he was not the only one, not by far, and Augustine was his strength but he had to be Augustine's as well - he had to, and Steven and Cynthia, the Victors from a few years earlier, also roped into the whole horrible business, jealous and grateful that his own mentor, Olympia, had managed to avoid it).

The thirty-third Games arrived, and Augustine's Tribute won, a girl his age named Alexa. He saw her at the after-party, her expression drawn and pale, and he and Augustine pulled her into the fold, helped support her as well.

The week after the thirty-third Games, they received word. Augustine would be attending university, focusing on his Talent of Pokemon biology. Lysandre's new Talent, cooking, would be nurtured by culinary school.

The schools were in the Capitol.

_"We could kill ourselves," Lysandre said frankly, lying on one of the sofas in Augustine's home in the Lumiose City Victor's Village. "I'd like to see them try to have fun with our corpses." He paused, then shuddered viscerally at the image that popped into his head. "Wait, wait, no, I take that back, they probably would try."_

_Augustine let out a wordless murmur, one leg dangling over the side of the armchair he was in. "I already thought of that," he confessed, "I had a plan and everything. But Auntie Drasna said that if I did, they'd take it out on our regions."_

_Lysandre frowned, both at Augustine's confession of considered suicide and his aunt's warning. "What do you mean, take it out on the regions?"_

_He shrugged, bouncing his foot against the armchair. "I mean, they can try to kill our Tributes off early. I think they let Alexa win because I was behaving for the last year, but if we don't, they'll target them. And - well - we need the food, honestly." He sighed. "I think we just... have to do this. Just do what they say and try not to think about it and let them take us whenever they w-want and -"_

_Voice choking off, Augustine screwed his eyes shut, and Lysandre slid off the sofa to kneel beside him and run a hand through his hair. "I'll endure it if you will," he whispered, dropping a light kiss to his lips, and his eyes widened a little as Augustine deepened it desperately._

_"Lysandre...?" he murmured back, twining his fingers through Lysandre's hair, "I - before they do this to us - can we...?"_

_Heart in his throat, Lysandre nodded, pushing himself to his feet and offering a hand to Augustine. And, still not letting go of each other's hand, they retreated to the bedroom._

It hadn't been all bad, had it? They had school and each other and new friends and a growing place in the world. And if, once a year, they had to mentor two more children in a fight to the death, they would endure it. And if, every few nights or weeks, they would have to give themselves over to strangers for their gratification, they would endure it.

They had explained it to Hiroshi, late one night when Augustine's room mate had inquired where they kept going, Lysandre half asleep on Augustine's bed. It was a risk, Hiroshi was not a Victor, he would never be in that position - but he was a friend, and perhaps, perhaps he could understand.

_"It's - not nice, what they do," Augustine explained, his voice low and shaky with his legs drawn up to his chest. "But we don't have any choice, I swear, we don't get to choose - they threaten our loved ones if we don't, our parents and my aunt and, well, each other -"_

_Lysandre woke up more properly, pushing himself up on his elbows, pretending his heart hadn't just attempted to do a back flip. "You love me?" he said tentatively._

_Hiroshi's eyes widened, and he tugged on the blonde lock of hair. "Okay, I think you two need to talk, so I'm gonna give you some privacy," he proclaimed, scrambling to his feet. "I'll be back in a little while - and then we can work out what to do about those Capitol fuckers!"_

_The door banged shut behind him, and Augustine still did not move, staring at the faded dorm room carpet._

_"You love me?" Lysandre whispered again, and Augustine finally turned to him, his expression more unguarded than Lysandre had ever seen before._

_"Yeah," he said quietly, "I do."_

And the world had tried to pull them apart but they had each other, with tentative confessions and quick touches of fingertips and two boys against the Capitol, growing up together, shattering and breaking and being put back together, but imperfectly, the pieces scattered like broken glass, a piece of Augustine in his heart and a piece of himself in Augustine's, and Lysandre could not breathe for how much he missed him, how much he hated the Capitol for everything they had done, for every single myriad way they had made them suffer.

Fury choked in his lungs.

The Capitol had broken them, had turned them into toys, had stripped away their humanity to use them as objects. And the regions - the regions were not innocent either, complacent in sending their children like lambs to the slaughter, in turning their backs on those suffering in the Victor's Villages. It was the Capitol who had destroyed them, but the regions bound to the Games were just as bad through their inactivity and complacency, and those who escaped the annual Reapings and who paid little mind to the Capitol other than to soak up the spectacle of the Games were even worse.

He could not forgive them. Not the Capitol, not Kalos and Unova and Nihon, not the free regions. They had destroyed them, destroyed them all, slowly and deliberately, and now Augustine was dead and they had committed a crime that he could never forgive.

He could never forgive them.

Humanity was a plague, a failure of a species, and the world would be better off without them.

It would be far better if humanity died.

Once and for all.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

Feeling helpless was, unfortunately, becoming a common thing for Shauna.

Seated in the dining room opposite Lysandre and beside Serena, the trio watched silently as the rescue party filed out. They were going back to the Capitol, going to get their fallen friends, and while she did not envy their return to the place of her nightmares one bit...

Well, it would have been nice to be able to do something other than just sit there, stewing in inactivity for the past week and a half.

Serena could have gone. She wasn't hurt, she was old enough, she could fight... but she had offered to stay behind, to keep Shauna and her broken foot and Lysandre with his injured shoulder company. Possibly, it was due to the guilt of Lysandre being shot to protect her - no matter how many times Lysandre had tried to reassure her that it wasn't her fault, Shauna knew Serena would cling to the guilt.

Like she did, and the thought was enough to make her stomach clench, biting down on her lip to try to hide the hurt she felt every time she saw the raw grief and barely hidden anger in Lysandre's eyes. She would not have blamed him if he had hated her - no matter how many hollow reassurances he gave her, she still knew that if she hadn't been injured, then Augustine wouldn't have died.

It didn't matter how many times anyone told her otherwise. She would believe herself responsible for the rest of her life.

It was eerily quiet now, with the rescue party gone. The dining hall was half empty, and she found herself picking at the pasta they had served for dinner, her appetite utterly gone and having to force herself to eat. She finished first and departed, roaming the empty hallways on her crutches, giving up on keeping the smile on her face. At least she had Fariha, the Quilladin sticking to her side and casting her worried looks. At least she wasn't completely alone.

How could the removal of barely two dozen people in a base this size make it feel so empty? But then, she reasoned, there were very few people left she actually recognised - Serena and Lysandre, Iris, May, Tierno. Hilbert, still suffering from his concussion, unable to help rescue his twin, N promising to get her back. May's father, Norman.

The rest were strangers, and even more, the rest had never been in the Arena. They could not understand what it was like - the shared past that bound the Tributes and the Victors together.

There was, she knew, a balcony somewhere around - one largely hidden from above and below, a shaded rocky gap in the face of the cliff. One of the few opportunities for genuinely fresh air for the base, buried in rock as it was, she made for it now and settled herself down, drawing her legs up, Fariha dropping down beside her.

The sun was beginning to set slowly, the west-facing cliffs affording a spectacular view of the sunset. Shauna sat back against the sun-baked rock and closed her eyes, soaking in the warmth to ward against the chill of the approaching evening. Orre during the day was sweltering - at night, though, it grew cold, and she was determined to take in as much of the heat as she could before it vanished.

It was interesting. Every single Tribute and mentor who had been in the Arena with them loathed the cold, now, it seemed.

There was a soft shuffling sound, the quiet noise of footsteps approaching, and Shauna cracked open one eye. "I thought I'd find you here," Serena's soft voice came from the doorway, and Shauna shut her eyes again, patting the spot next to her.

"It's like the roof at the Training Centre Apartments, right?" Serena said with a smile in her voice, settling beside her. This time, when Shauna dropped her head to Serena's shoulder, it was reciprocated with Serena's arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah. That was kind of nice, amongst..." Shauna waved a hand, unable to really articulate the horror of the Capitol. Why would she have to, anyway? Serena had been there, right there with her.

Serena made a soft, wordless noise. "The view's very different, isn't it?" she murmured, gesturing outwards.

Red rock and sand, low houses, run-down buildings - it was a far cry from the richness and opulence of the Capitol. But when Shauna opened her eyes, she could see washing on the line, could see the faint blurs of people moving, walking their Pokemon as the sun set, smoke curling from the chimneys - the undeniable signs of life, more than just the glossy, reflective towers that surrounded the Training Centre. "Yeah," Shauna said softly, "But we're different now too, aren't we?"

"We're alive," Serena agreed, and caught Shauna's hand, squeezing it. "We're safe. You're hurt, but it'll heal. And we're away from the Capitol now." She let out a laugh, sudden and wry in the silence. "You know, when we were on the roof at the Training Centre, I thought - I thought that if I survived the Games, I'd join the Rebellion. And now I have, and so I have, and you've survived too, and a whole lot of us, but I'm not sure it even matters because everyone is fighting and no one will get the food and people could still get hurt."

"The world is going to change," came Lysandre's weary voice from behind them, and both girls started, "And we still do not know whether it will be for the better or for the worse. A war is coming, precisely what the Capitol feared, and now may be the only opportunity we have to defeat them. But what will the price be?"

"Isn't it worth fighting for?" Shauna's voice quavered, and she shut her eyes again, forcing herself to speak steadily. "I mean - if it means that no more kids will die in the Arena, it's worth fighting for, right?"

Lysandre let his breath out slowly, and Shauna raised her head to look at him properly, at his bowed head and the way he held himself, at the tension and grief and anger she could see. "And what," he continued softly, "If the coming war kills more children than the Games ever would?" He shook his head, fierce red locks flickering around his head like flames. "We need to destroy the Capitol. There is no doubt in that. But what if it cannot be done without causing more suffering and more conflict?"

Serena frowned, one hand tightening on Shauna. "If there was a magic button that would kill the important people in the Capitol," she said slowly, "That would be good - it would stop things quickly. But - there isn't, is there? We have to fight the old-fashioned way."

"If there was a magic button," Lysandre repeated slowly, "But it ended things quickly and decisively with very little suffering, would you use it?"

Shauna could not find an answer to that, and from her silence, neither could Serena. To kill people instantly, to snuff out their lives in an instant? It was anathema to her, an abomination. But if it saved lives... if it was for the greater good...

Would she use it?

"I don't know," she admitted quietly, and Serena added her assent.

Lysandre straightened up abruptly, making for the doorway again. "It is getting cold," he said quietly. "Do not stay out too late."

They stayed out until it was dark and the chill set in properly, and then returned to their rooms, trying not to look at Cynthia's empty bed, trying not to think about how, even now, she and the others would be racing towards the Capitol. And once they were there, what would happen? They would have a fight on their hands. Perhaps, not all of them would make it out. The idea that there were those in the rescue party who Shauna would potentially never see again was a sickening one, and she undressed quietly, changing into her new pyjamas, crawling under the sheets even at the early hour.

If there was a button she could press to destroy the Capitol, would she use it?

Staring at her crutches propped against the side of the bunk, she shifted her legs, wincing at the heaviness of the plastic cast. The Capitol had broken her bones and killed friends and companions. What good had they ever done?

She rolled over, staring at the wall. Not everyone from the Capitol was bad. Iris, reading in the bunk opposite her, was nice, energetic and kind and a potential friend. Elesa, the model turned rebel, was very friendly. What if this button hurt them, too?

Perhaps there was no easy answer. Perhaps they had to work it out on their own.

Shauna slept poorly that night, besieged by nightmares punctuated by long stretches of wakefulness. At least she wasn't alone - Serena, at one point, started awake with a strangled cry from another bad dream, eventually climbing down the ladder and sneaking under Shauna's blankets. They had fallen asleep together, Shauna's good leg hooked around Serena's ankle, Serena's hair tickling Shauna's nose, but the nightmares chased away at least for a little while.

It was still early when they awakened and found that any more sleep was futile, and they had emerged out into the common areas to find that a message had been sent from the rescue team informing them that they were on their way. Still, they could not pass on any further information, and soon the dining hall was full of anxious people, awaiting news about their friends and families, Shauna's hands knitted in her shirt.

Trevor had been captured. Was he safe now? What had they done to him, was he the same boy he had been when they had stood together on the stage on Reaping Day? She felt she barely knew him and yet he was her brother, someone with whom she shared experiences and a history with.

Lysandre gazed at the table and did not speak.

It was past midday before they received word that the rescue party - and those that they had rescued - had returned. Waiting in the dining hall with her hands trembling, Shauna awaited news, desperately wanting to rush to the medical wing to find out information but barely managing to restrain herself until they were given the all-clear.

News came in the form of Hiroshi, Lysandre's friend, who hurried over to them with a grin. He looked utterly exhausted, he was bruised and beaten up, but he was smiling widely enough that his face probably hurt as he approached. "Lys, Spoinktails, Serena!" he told them breathlessly, and before Shauna could contemplate being the only one with a nickname, he pushed on. "We're back. We're _all_ back, and -"

"Trevor," Lysandre interrupted, "Is he alright?"

"He's fine!" Hiroshi grinned, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. "They didn't hurt the kids, it looks like. He's just exhausted and a bit dehydrated. But, look - Lysandre, you're gonna wanna come with me! You too, kids!"

Shauna and Serena swapped intrigued glances, following behind Hiroshi and Lysandre.

"We made it through pretty easily," Hiroshi explained as they hurried to the medical wing, "They treated the actual victors a bit more badly, I guess because we're actual rebels - the kids were fine, though, I guess they were just meant to be a bargaining chip - but see, when we got in there, some of the others told us about someone _else_ the Capitol had their hands on."

They pushed through the door and found themselves in organised chaos, hurrying past hastily assembled cubicles divided by curtains, each bed occupied and, often, surrounded by a small collection of people. Catching a glimpse of Steven holding a man with vividly turquoise hair and whispering to him gently while he examined the cast on his wrist, and tiny Dawn being comforted by Cynthia, rocking her almost maternally, Hiroshi paused in front of a curtained cubicle, gestured dramatically, and drew it back.

There on the bed, legs drawn to his chest, a scar across his throat, grey eyes exhausted, a tube in his arm and a tube in his nose, Diantha brushing tangles out of his dark curls, was someone who made Shauna's breath catch in her throat, made Lysandre have to grab on to the pole supporting the curtains or he may have crumpled to his knees.

Augustine was alive.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Mention of torture and mutilation.

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Augustine Sycamore was having a bad few weeks, but things were definitely looking up.

The Quarter Quell twist, the Arena, the poison. The knife in his hands, the most intense pain he had felt up to that point as he had slit his own throat, waking up in a panic on the hovercraft. The Capitol and its interrogations and torture and starvation and thirst and lying in a filthy cell wishing he had died, and then the few weeks getting better with the rescue, sweet relief in the form of sedation, comforting hands soothing his injuries and his hurts...

And now Lysandre, Lysandre staring at him like he had had all his birthdays at once, blue eyes swimming with tears and a smile spreading across his face that made him almost look like the boy he once had been.

Augustine held out an arm to him, and almost immediately let out a soft, "Oof," as Lysandre flung himself into his arms, the air temporarily evacuating his lungs. He breathed in shakily and buried his face against the crook of Lysandre's neck, eyes falling shut against the tears threatening to fall, feeling Lysandre's own tears dripping on him, feeling Lysandre shaking as they clung to each other and did not let go.

Their reunion was quiet, no words spoken on either end. And it was enough just to have Lysandre back, to be able to hold him, to know for a fact that he had survived the Arena, that they both had made it out and that they still had each other at the end.

"I don't believe it," Serena whispered joyfully, "Augustine, you're alive?"

Carefully, Augustine extracted one arm and held it out too, both girls jumping on the bed to scramble close. He had Lysandre, he had Diantha, smiling broadly and rubbing his back gently, they had their Tributes, they were alive and well. They were safe.

"How?" Shauna sniffled against his shoulder, and he drew back hesitantly, absent-mindedly untangling the IV keeping him hydrated. "I mean - we heard the cannons, and -"

"They fired the cannons early," Diantha explained, her voice gentle as the girls sat back, as Lysandre adjust his hold so Augustine could face them. "They - well, they heard what he said and guessed what he was going to do, and having a living rebel was a good idea, in their eyes. So they picked him up before... anything happened, stopped the bleeding, cured the poison..." She met his gaze with a wince, and he nodded once, gesturing for her to keep going. "And then they interrogated him."

"They hurt you?" Lysandre said immediately, his grip tightening for a moment. "What did they do to you? Are you alright?"

Augustine hesitated, one hand tightening on the sheets, nodding uncertainly in response to two of the questions but utterly unsure how to answer the second.

"Augustine." Lysandre pulled away for a moment, an intense blue gaze fixed on him surrounded by a pale, pale face. "Why aren't you saying anything?"

He had to know. He had to know, or at least suspect, what happened to people like him - to rebels, to dissidents, to people who tried to stand up against the might of the Capitol and were captured and punished for it.

_"Fine. You won't talk? We can arrange that to make it permanent!"_

"Because he's an Avox," Shauna concluded shakily, and Augustine lifted his head in surprise. "The way he swallows, it's - the same as the Avoxes in the Capitol." She turned to look at him directly, smiling shakily and her eyes shining with tears. "Aren't you?"

Augustine dropped his gaze and nodded once, and Lysandre pulled him back into his arms, one hand pressed protectively against the back of his head. "I'll kill them," he whispered fervently, "I swear it, I'll kill them."

Exhaling, Augustine pulled away just long enough to reach for the notepad and pen he had been keeping nearby, flipping to a clean page and scribbling down, _I was mostly expecting it after I woke up in the hovercraft. You know what they do to rebels._

He showed it to Lysandre, who unfurled just long enough to scan the words and nod. "I know, but -" His voice choked off as if in sympathetic muteness. "I want to make them pay. They had no right to touch you for telling the truth."

Closing his eyes, Augustine buried his face against Lysandre's shoulder again, clinging as if he would disappear before his eyes if he let go, unable to say the words telling him to forget revenge for now, to just stay with him. What was done, was done. All he wanted now was to be with him, to be safe and amongst friends and loved ones.

Wasn't that enough?

"What happens now?" Shauna asked tentatively, and he lifted his head to blink at her. "Like, what do we do now? You said we need to fight, but... how?"

Shaking his head helplessly, Augustine reached for the notepad again. _I don't know. I expect there will be a lot of planning. But a lot of us need time to recover as well. I need to relearn how to eat and drink._ He pulled a face as he handed the notepad across, glancing down at the IV in his arm and the feeding tube that ran from his nose.

He missed food. Still, how was he supposed to eat? How was he supposed to be able to actually taste it with what they had done to him, how could he swallow it if he could barely swallow his own saliva?

It was a big learning curve. And, he thought with sudden bitterness, it wasn't exactly as if he had ever taken the time to ask the Avoxes he saw in the Capitol how they dealt with suddenly being mutilated and voiceless.

The notepad having been passed around, Lysandre sighed and handed it back. "We are going to go through a lot of notepads," he said with an unhappy look. "Perhaps we can get you a small computer."

"We could learn sign language," Serena suggested with a cautious smile. "We'll all learn it! And I bet your other friends like Hiroshi would too. Can you make any sounds at all?"

"Mm-hmm." Lysandre glanced up at the quiet vocalisation, a sudden pained look in his eye, and Augustine reached for the notepad again. _Mostly vowel sounds. I can't make most consonants, and it's not very intelligible._

They checked the note and returned the book, and Augustine added a further note - _For now, we can use this, and sounds and gestures and yes-and-no questions. I expect we will all get quite good at mime!_ He added a quick smiley face, attempting a smile of his own, and showed them that, too.

Lysandre actually managed a chuckle at that, strained as it was, then glanced at him in sudden concern as Augustine yawned in sudden exhaustion, clapping a hand to his mouth before they could see the injuries there. He was weary and worn down, sleep-deprived and in pain, and the painkillers they had given him on the way back were starting to wear off.

Flipping to another page, he quickly scrawled, _Could you arrange more painkillers? And I think I need rest._ This one, he showed to Diantha, who relayed the message to the others.

"Why don't you go visit Trevor?" she prompted, "You haven't seen him at all yet, Lysandre. And Augustine's not going anywhere - are you, dear?" she added with a grin, squeezing his shoulder gently.

He smiled back at that, nodding and gesturing outwards, giving Lysandre his most encouraging look. He would be fine for now - he would be fine, as the others departed, Lysandre promising he would return as soon as he could. Diantha called over one of the medics to administer more of the painkiller through the IV, combined with some sort of sedative that served to instantly make him feel drowsy, and she leaned down to kiss him on the cheek.

"Sleep well, Augustine," she whispered, sitting back up. "You're safe now."

He managed one last feeble smile at her before sleep claimed him again.

 

_He's awake and in a hovercraft and the pain across his throat is searing but he's awake and conscious and alert and fighting back, and one of the medics pulls away a strip of cloth stained dark red to replace it with another, giving him an inscrutable look as he jabs a needle into his arm and everything goes cold and blank and white again, and all he can think is, "I'm alive, I'm still alive."_

_He's awake and on a med bed, but his wrists and ankles are shackled and he's been stripped down to the underclothes he wore in the Arena, covered in blood and filthy as they are; and there's a gag in his mouth and they pull it away, and he chokes on air as he gulps it down into his lungs, and a figure in grey leans over him and says, "Well, Augustine, you_ have _caused us a bit of trouble, haven't you?"_

_They're asking questions, constant questions about the rebellion and its activities and the base and their plans, and he keeps his lips sealed until they start hitting him, and then he feeds them nonsense answers, staring in defiance as he tells them lies, and one of his interrogators hits him hard enough that stars burst in front of his eyes and tells him, "Perhaps you need to be reminded what exactly is at stake here."_

_They strap him to a chair and place him in a room with white walls and a white floor and a white ceiling, and on every single surface, they project images of the Games, his Games, the Games that came after, watching as he leads the other boy to his death, watching as his Tributes, the Tributes he was meant to mentor, die painfully and violently, and he whispers, over and over, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."_

_They tell him that the deaths of the children he couldn't prevent are what they will face on an unimaginable scale if the rebellion isn't stopped, because an uprising will mean war and a war will mean death after death after death, and all he has to do is tell them how to stop the rebellion, and for a moment, he considers, he really considers, and then he remembers the terror on the faces of the Tributes on Reaping Day and, quietly, says, "No."_

_They're angry, he knows they are, and he expects pain, he expects torture, but what he gets are medics in white bringing in medical equipment, one grabbing his arm and injecting him with something that makes him go limp against the restraints, his muscles utterly paralysed, and his interrogator tells him that if he won't talk, they can arrange to make it permanent, and there's a hand grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking his head back and clamps and a scalpel coming closer and closer, and panic burns white-hot and he knows, knows what's going to happen next, and he bites down hard as gloved fingers force their way into his mouth and is slapped viciously, and he knows that this will be the last thing he ever says, knows that this will be the last time those beloved syllables will ever fall from his lips, and he opens his mouth and screams, "LYSANDRE!"_

Augustine awakened with a strangled, wordless scream and with his face wet with tears. For a moment, he was utterly disoriented, back in the Capitol with blood dripping from his lips - and then he registered a hand running soothingly through his hair, a gentle hurried whisper of, "Augustine, Augustine, you're safe now, you're safe, you'll be fine, Augustine, you'll be fine, you're safe..."

With a choked sob, he unfurled and wrapped himself around Lysandre, focusing on the steady beating of his lover's heart, of the gentle kisses being dropped against his forehead and cheeks. He was safe, he was in Orre, lying in a bed in the medical wing of a rebel base with Lysandre, the Capitol was hundreds of miles away and he could breathe easily, he was safe, he was safe, he was safe...

"Augustine?" Lysandre murmured, and he nodded once, shakily, just to let Lysandre know he was still there. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Augustine gave him a look that very plainly said, "I'm _mute_."

Lysandre managed a chuckle, uneasy as it was. "Well - write about it, I suppose."

He shook his head, taking a steadying breath. He was fine, he was safe, Lysandre was here... slowly, he loosened his grip, although he did not move away, focusing on the warmth and solidity of Lysandre's body to keep him grounded.

"Augustine?" Lysandre whispered again, softly and gently. Augustine made a wordless little noise of confirmation, eyes mostly shut now. "You've protected me for over half my life," Lysandre murmured, and kissed his forehead like a promise. "This time, let me protect you."

He fell asleep again, feeling Lysandre's fingers through his hair, and this time, the nightmares did not disturb him.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

It was strange, being able to speak freely.

Serena had spent her entire life up to the flight from the Arena speaking in code, never able to actually say what she thought about the Capitol or the Games or the Peacekeepers, watching people speak in double meanings, reading their expressions and raised eyebrows like a second language.

Here, though... here in the rebel base in Orre, people spoke freely and openly about their feelings about just about everything from the Games to precisely what they thought of President Harmonia's policies, a freedom of speech that left Serena a little bewildered. It was like learning another language, learning to loosen her tongue and be able to say, quite plainly, what she thought.

"Hey, Shauna?" she murmured, leaning back against the rock on the cliff side balcony, watching Renard and Fariha sparring playfully nearby.

"Yeah?" Shauna's eyes were closed, enjoying the lingering warmth - it would be dark soon, but for now, the sun was very pleasant.

Serena grinned. "The Hunger Games are cruel, the Capitol is sadistic, and President Harmonia has _terrible_ hair."

Shauna laughed, a proper, full-bellied laugh. "And the people in the Capitol have no fashion sense!"

"And the Peacekeepers are horrible and violent!"

"And we should start a revolution and never listen to the Capitol again!"

It was freeing, being able to say this. Shauna understood, most of their fellow Tributes understood - the older ones had become used to the doublespeak, but they, who were only just learning about what was happening in the world and how unjust it was, were the ones who had found the restrictions grating.

Well. The older ones probably did too - but at least they were used to it.

"What do you want to do when this is over?" Shauna said with a slight yawn, shifting closer. "I want to see the word... make memories... have more Pokemon. Maybe a dragon. I want a dragon! Augustine's lucky, having a dragon..."

Shauna was tired, Serena noted with a smile, getting more and more rambling as the evening progressed. It wasn't even that late - it was more that life in the rebel base tended to be noisy and chaotic, with people coming and going at all hours of the day. It was an interesting life, one that Serena might have chosen willingly no matter what happened.

But she still missed her mother. She missed Vaniville Town, the quietness and stillness of evening, far from the bustling crowds of Lumiose City, the smell of flowers in the air. She missed knowing that she was safe and out of harm - the stories of uprisings had reached the rebellion, and while she doubted sleepy, small Vaniville would be affected - still, she worried.

At least Kalos had not been brought under martial law like Eastern and Western Unova had. Kalos, and Nihon further on, were still standing strong, aided by their distance from the Capitol. To gain access beyond the Peacekeepers and officials already there, they would have to travel by sea - and, well, they could hold the ports closed.

And at least her mother knew that she was alright. Serena's name had been amongst those listed as having fled when the Arena had been broken open liked a cracked egg - she knew her mother would be well aware that she was part of the rebellion now.

She hoped they hadn't hurt her. Serena bit her lip, hard.

The sun dipped below the horizon, and Serena straightened up with a sigh, stretching to pop her back. "Let's go back in. They'll probably have finished the meeting, right?" she told Shauna with a quick smile, gesturing for Renard to follow her. This was one of the infuriating things about their situation - despite, at seventeen, almost being an adult, she was not a part of the mission planning and brainstorming.

Being left out hurt a little, she had to admit. Still, she wasn't the only one - with most of the rebels attending the planning sessions, she and Shauna would spend time with the other Tributes, explore, or else visit the medical wing, Shauna and Grant racing each other down the hallways on their crutches, keeping Augustine company while Lysandre was away, learning sign language from some of the other Avoxes in the rebellion, playing cards (Shauna wasn't sure what game it was that Hiroshi had introduced with the black and white cards, but at least it made Augustine laugh), taking Artemis for walks (much to the occasional surprise of the other residents of the base) just for a change of scenery. Increasingly, he had started to go to the meetings as well, and then the Tributes would be left to their own devices - like now.

Shauna at her side, Serena made her way through increasingly familiar halls, making for the medical wing where Augustine and Lysandre would be returning to. They were the closest thing she had to parents here, and the closest thing Shauna had to parents, period - vaguely, she wondered if Lysandre would take Shauna in when all was said and done, to prevent her having to return to the children's home she had spent the past nine years in.

It would be nice. Lysandre and Shauna (and Trevor, who did have a family of his own but was part of their little family of choice, too) could get the train from Kiloude to Lumiose City, and Tierno could come from Coumarine, and she could head up to Lumiose herself from Vaniville... they would not have to lose touch after everything was over. Nor would she want to - Shauna was becoming her sister by choice.

They arrived at the medical wing just as Lysandre and Augustine returned, Diantha accompanying them as well. Augustine gave them a smile (closed-lipped - Serena could not help but notice that he wouldn't open his mouth at all if he could help it, and something in her stomach twinged at the thought of what his mutilated tongue must have looked like now) and signed 'hello' as Lysandre and Diantha greeted them out loud, and Serena gave the trio an expectant look.

"Well? How was the meeting?" she asked without preamble.

Diantha chuckled, and even Augustine managed another smile. "We'll get settled and then fill you in, alright?" she said cheerfully, leading the way back to the curtained room that Augustine was staying in until the medics deemed him ready to leave. (It certainly looked lived-in - she was almost certain that all of Lysandre's meagre belongings were in there as well, and upon learning that the pair were trying to share a single bed, the medical wing staff had pulled another unused bed in as well, pushing them together to form one bigger one. Victors' privilege, she supposed.)

Settling in, Augustine stretched his long legs in front of him and dug into his pocket for one of his notepads, flipping to one of the pages covered in his neat cursive. "A summary?" Serena guessed as she took it from him, Shauna leaning over her shoulder to peer at it as well. If nothing else, writing everything down did mean that Augustine took pretty extensive notes, and the girls carefully perused the contents of the meeting.

_Summary - meeting, November 19_

_\- Brief on situation in E and W Unova: martial law, uprisings in Black City, Virbank, Driftveil_

_\- Trains halted, small towns isolated_

_\- Driftveil port closed, food shortages in W Unova_

_\- Skyla and Clay to arrange hovercraft food drops distributed in Mistralton_

_\- Fighting in Nihon, Cap holds most of Kanto/Johto_

_\- Cianwood held by rebels, advancing in Olivine_

_\- Hoenn and Sinnoh rebel-held, Mossdeep Island Cap-held_

_\- Cap cannot gain foothold in Kalos!_

(There was, indeed, an exclamation mark here. Augustine was a proud Kalosian, it seemed.)

_\- Lumiose, Couriway, Kiloude, Coumarine Cap-held, Couriway tenuously_

_\- Most other towns largely rebel-held_

_\- Rebels holding Coastal securely, Connecting and Reflection Caves, Ambrette, Cyllage, Geosenge_

_\- Heavy fighting in Shalour for control, Coumarine held heavily by Cap_

Here, there was a line drawn - the end of the recap, it seemed, moving on to the planning. Serena gazed down at the news of fighting and was gladdened to see that Vaniville had not been mentioned - it meant they could still be independent or held by the rebels, that there was no heavy fighting.

And holding most of Coastal Kalos was... heartening. The Capitol may have held the major port of Coumarine, but they were losing Shalour (or so she hoped) and its port, and there was nothing stopping supply ships from arriving in Ambrette or Cyllage.

_\- Stressing importance of having a plan for Unova, Nihon, AND Kalos_

_\- No good freeing individual towns if Cap still legally governs_

_\- Legal team to look into Treaty of Treachery for loopholes_

_\- May have to take fight directly to Cap_

_\- Safer to claim hold of regions first to remove resources and manpower from Cap_

_\- Problem still remains of G.H. holding great power_

_\- Full team of 6, 1 is Bisharp used as bodyguard, 5 unknown, never shown to N_

_\- Fair assumption that he is ready for anything_

_\- Need more power!_

_\- Legendary?_

_\- Kalos has Xerneas, Yveltal, Zygarde_

_\- Power enough to threaten G.H. and Cap?_

_\- Return to Kalos?_

"Legendaries?" Serena whispered as she handed the notepad back to Augustine, her brow furrowed. "You're thinking of using Legendaries?"

"It's a solid idea," Lysandre confirmed with a nod, "N knows of two powerful dragons in Unova that may be enough leverage to threaten the President into standing down - Reshiram and Zekrom, I believe. The only difficulty here is that those dragons remain dormant in the form of stones, and, well." He grimaced. "Stones are _small_."

Shauna peered at the notepad again, mouthing the unfamiliar names. "What about our three? Xerneas, Yveltal, and Zygarde?"

" _Ih_ -vell-tawl, not _yeh_ -vell-tawl," Lysandre corrected absent-mindedly. "And - they are a possibility. They are a trio, although Zygarde is rarely seen - it hides itself deep in caves. Xerneas and Yveltal _have_ been seen more recently, although if they are dormant, they may be hard to find - still, it would be easier to find an immense tree and a black cocoon than it would be to find a small rock."

Reaching for his notebook again, Augustine scrawled something else, showing them. _I don't like the idea of Yveltal. It's said to be a Bringer of Destruction and could be intensely dangerous. The myths say it absorbs the life of everything around it._

"That sounds kind of scary," Shauna admitted, her voice quavering. "What about the other two?"

_Xerneas is said to be a Bringer of Life. Zygarde is unknown but is thought to hold the ecosystem in balance._

Serena made a thoughtful sound, glancing around at the group. "Xerneas may almost be too... passive," she suggested tentatively. "We'd need something that can actually threaten the Capitol. Maybe Zygarde, if it really represents balance..."

"On the other hand, having something intensely dangerous may be just what we need to convince the Capitol that it would be in their best interest to stand down," Lysandre pointed out, and Augustine immediately shook his head.

_What if we lose control?_

"We _won't_. I'm sure of it."

Diantha held her hands up, smiling placatingly. "Look, how about we work this out in the morning?" she suggested. "They all have merits and flaws, the trick is finding a balance! We should go get some dinner - Augustine, dear, will you be alright?"

_Oh yes. I'm sure I have more mush through a tube that I can be fed._ But he handed the notepad over with a wry smile, at least, and Lysandre chuckled and gave him a swift kiss.

"I'll return soon," he promised, and stood. "Come - all the good food will be gone if we do not hurry."

And, absolutely no closer to an answer, the girls followed him out and away.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

Yveltal.

The name resonated in Lysandre's head like a song with half the notes off-key. He had been distracted, quiet and brooding ever since the meeting where the possibility of using the legendaries of old to take down the Capitol had first been raised. Yveltal was powerful, dangerous... lethal. Using a legendary like that to stop the Capitol would certainly be effective, provided that they did not lose control of it, provided that it did not turn on them...

And what next? A creature like that would not take kindly to being used as a threat only. A creature like that demanded blood, and would not be satisfied until everyone in the Capitol laid dead beneath its feet.

And while Lysandre had no real problem with that... there was still Augustine. Augustine, he knew, would refuse to repay the Capitol for the deaths of children with the deaths of even more.

Augustine had been against the idea of using Yveltal from the outset, Lysandre catching his wince as Lysandre had brought the Kalosian trio up at the meeting. Augustine, he knew, could see the merit in Xerneas, the pacifist bringer of life, or Zygarde, the elusive and unknown quantity that quietly safeguarded the balance of nature. And yet how could either of them possibly sway the Capitol? Zygarde would be next to impossible to find. And Xerneas...

Xerneas would not be strong enough. Xerneas was a protector of life, and perhaps there he could see the life bringer being convinced to threaten the Capitol if it meant protecting the lives of others. But if it came to a fight, would Xerneas be enough to stand up against the might of President Harmonia and his team of unknowns?

And perhaps Yveltal could be used in other ways. Perhaps simply threatening the Capitol would not be enough, perhaps they would be able to defeat even a legendary with raw fire power and soldiers and guns and bombs. Perhaps there was another way to do things.

What was their goal? Beyond 'stopping the Hunger Games' and 'stopping the Capitol', their primary objective was to end suffering, to move past their bloody past of war games and starvation and conflict. Before the Capitol had been formed, war and hunger and suffering still existed. Beyond the Capitol, in a time afterwards, it would exist again. They would never be able to stop it, never be able to move past the cycle of conflict and peace and conflict again. It was part of life.

If they were to truly eradicate suffering, then that dictated that life had to end, too.

Lysandre buried his face in his palms.

There were stories, family stories of his ancestors, the kings of old, back in Kalos. It was part of his birthright to know of the story of the Undying King, one so devastated by the war that had ripped the land apart, by the loss of his most beloved Pokemon, that he created the machine to bring her back to life - forever.

And then end life - forever.

It had not worked, or Lysandre would not have been there today. The Undying King had vanished and his brother had taken the throne, and three thousand years later, his descendants had been thrown into more pointless conflict, more pointless death.

But perhaps... perhaps. The weapon still existed, he knew - the Ultimate Weapon, hidden beneath ancient Kalos, and he even had a good idea on where it would possibly be. The machine on its own had not been sufficient to end all life.

But what if the weapon was powered by a Bringer of Destruction?

Surely that would do the trick. Surely that would end all suffering by ending all life. No one would ever go hungry again. (Because they would be dead.) No one would ever need to squabble over an increasingly limited amount of resources again. (Because they would be dead.) No one would ever need to fight again. (Because they would be dead.) No one would ever need to send their children to the slaughter, to fight in war games meant to punish them for the sins of their grandparents and great-grandparents. (Because they would be dead.)

No one would ever love again, or see the sun or a flower again, or hold hands again, or listen to their lover breathe gently and softly in the night again.

Because they would be dead.

Could he do it? Could he trigger the weapon, if it meant Augustine's death?

Exhaling roughly, he stood, marching to the communications room. There was, he knew, a set-up for coded messages to be sent by relay, and now he punched in a code to reach Kalos, to reach some associates he had made some time earlier, when these dark thoughts had first started to emerge.

Xerosic was a superb scientist. He was also, most likely, a sociopath.

The message he sent was short and to the point: _Search for Yveltal. Will most likely be dormant in black cocoon. Do not contact me, I will contact you._

Signing it off with the coded name of Fleur de Lis, the name he used for all of his communications with this group, he sent it off and sat back with a sigh. This was... an extreme solution, ending everything, and yet wasn't it precisely what fit the description of 'ending suffering'? Wasn't that just what they needed?

Lysandre was uneasy as he made his way back to the medical wing, where Augustine would be finishing up his latest session with the other Avoxes, relearning how to eat and drink in slow and painstaking steps. (The drinking was going a little better than the eating. Coffee, apparently, was a good motivator.) He had been giving them privacy during this time, knowing how self-conscious Augustine felt, knowing that he still felt he had been mutilated - at least the others could reassure him that he was not alone, and Avoxes were not in short supply.

Even the word made him feel... uncomfortable, though, and that was something he could not deny. An Avox was a voiceless servant, and that was something that had been a part of his mental landscape of the world for over half his life. An Avox was, almost, decoration in the Capitol, and he had never taken the time to talk to them like Augustine did, neither seeing the point of talking to someone who could not talk back, nor feeling strictly comfortable spending time with someone who had been so mutilated.

And now the one person he loved more than anyone else was an Avox.

Perhaps he could have seen it as a learning experience, something humbling, but there was still the faint tinge of disgust whenever he thought too deeply about it. He had kissed Augustine many, many times since his return - but on the cheek, or forehead, or throat, or hands. He had kissed his lips more than once, and both had kept their mouths closed - Augustine from self-consciousness and not an insignificant amount of pain; Lysandre from the weird creeping horror he felt from knowing what had happened to him.

And then he was right back where he started, hating the Capitol, loathing them, for mutilating the man he loved, for forcing him to suffer, for stealing his voice and never, ever giving it back.

Lysandre was silent as he entered the medical wing, nodding with forced respect to the pair of Avoxes who were now departing. Entering Augustine's (and, he supposed, it might as well have been his, too) cubicle, he forced a smile on his lips, not willing to frighten him with his dark thoughts.

"How was it?" he asked with a smile, before pausing and carefully signing the words as well.

Augustine simply gave him a thumbs up and a faint, tired smile, apparently unwilling to elaborate any further. Nodding, Lysandre climbed on to the bed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, feeling Augustine curl against his side. "Did you learn any more signs?" he asked drowsily, opening his eyes when he felt Augustine nod. "What is it?"

Pulling away from Lysandre, Augustine hesitated, then curled his middle and ring fingers down, the other three extended. Lysandre clumsily copied it, and with a soft, "Heh," Augustine bumped their fingertips together gently.

"What does it mean?" he asked curiously, and Augustine reached for the notepad, cheeks flushed as he flipped open a page and showed Lysandre the words there, printed carefully in Kalosian and Unovan both.

_Je t'aime.  
I love you._

Something wrapped around Lysandre's heart and gripped tight, a slow, deep ache that permeated his bones, made his breath catch in his throat. Pulling Augustine into his arms, he buried his face in those sweet black curls and squeezed his eyes shut, hiding the tears welling there.

"Je t'aime," he whispered, over and over like a prayer. "Je t'aime, Augustine, je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime..."

_I love you._

_I don't want you to suffer any more._

_If you were dead, you would not suffer any more._

_I would not let someone I loved suffer._

_I love you._

_I love you._

_I love you._


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Memories of forced prostitution and mutilation, discussion of suicide.

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

The day Augustine was finally freed from IVs and feeding tubes was not... well, certainly not the happiest day of his life, but probably the happiest of the last month of so.

With strict instruction to return to the medical centre if he was having trouble eating to the point that it was affecting his health (although drinking liquids was certainly easier - if nothing else, he desperately craved coffee), he finally managed to depart, hand in hand with Lysandre, wearing regular clothing instead of pyjamas and the plastic bracelet gone from his wrist.

Lysandre was leading him to their new quarters, the ones he would be sharing with Steven and Wallace and Hiroshi - a (slightly) bigger bed had been brought in to replace the single one that had honestly gone unused since his return, given how often Lysandre ended up in his own bed in the medical wing. It would be a revelation to be somewhere quieter, somewhere with friends, and although some unlucky rebels remained bedridden, he was no longer one of them.

Fidgeting with the collar of his new shirt with his free hand, he swung Lysandre's hand with his other, simply enjoying the company. Lysandre looked serious and solemn far more often than not these days - he was serious by nature, Augustine knew that, but this was a grimness he had rarely seen, especially given that they had managed the impossible and escaped the Capitol.

Not unscathed, no. He would bear the scars of their treatment for a lifetime. But wasn't it better to be injured but alive and free, rather than physically intact but mentally tormented, knowing that any wrong word could lead to their doom?

The room was vacant when they arrived, and Lysandre swiftly pointed out their bed, the place to store their belongings (not many, honestly - aside from borrowed clothes and the toiletries pack, all he had was the ring that had been restored to his finger and Artemis' Poke Ball, never removed from his belt unless he was showering or sleeping). Stashing his few things, Augustine straightened up from the drawer he was sliding shut, giving Lysandre an expectant look and an unvoiced question of, 'Now what?'

"I will show you where the showers and restrooms are, and the training rooms," Lysandre murmured, resting one hand on the small of his back. "You've already seen the dining hall, the recreation room, and the comms room - ah, yes. There are two rooms you have not seen yet. I believe you will greatly enjoy one."

The training rooms, Augustine was already vaguely familiar with - he had been given strict instructions by the medical staff that he was to make use of them to build up his strength again, malnourishment being particularly hard on the body. Still, he noted their locations with a nod, taking Lysandre's hand again as he was led deeper into the cliff, down to the very bottom of the base.

Here was a vast underground lake, lit artificially and with steel ladders leading in and out of the deepest parts. They had turned it into a swimming pool, and at this hour, a few rebels swam laps back and forth, the ceiling dappled with rippling water. Off to one side, one of his favourite members of the medical staff waved to him with a smile, the Feraligatr with her dwarfing the young nurse, and he returned the wave and smile.

To his immense delight, too, there were Pokemon here - cave dwellers, generally, Shellder and Poliwag and Surskit and Goldeen and (he shuddered) Basculin, these ones, thankfully, far smaller and less vicious than the ones in the Arena.

"It makes for an enjoyable swim," Lysandre explained, his voice echoing oddly in the underground chamber. "There is a changing room available just off to the side, behind that outcropping."

Augustine made a thoughtful, pleased sound. Perhaps he would swim - more likely, he would attempt to study the Pokemon, unused to seeing so many in one place at one time. Pulling his hand free, he carefully signed, 'Is this what you want to show I like?'

(Alright, so his syntax needed work.)

Lysandre puzzled over that for a moment, asked him to repeat it, then translated, "Do you mean, is this the one I was going to show you that I said you would particularly like?"

Augustine nodded vigorously, quietly vowing to work on his sentence structure as well as his vocabulary.

"No." Lysandre gave him a more genuine smile this time, and took his hand again. "We're going back up now - I hope you don't mind going up stairs."

It _was_ quite a climb, and with Augustine still convalescing, they had had to pause more than once. Eventually, though, they made it - this time, almost to the top of the cliff, right at the edge to allow some natural light to filter through. Augustine closed his eyes and let Lysandre lead him, the sun on his face a sorely missed experience, the smells and sounds of life surrounding him.

Smells and sounds? Augustine opened his eyes wide as Lysandre pushed open a door, and a closed-lipped but wide smile spread slowly across his face - inside were a myriad of Pokemon, Aurea Juniper and a young girl he recognised as Iris tending to them and feeding them.

"This is the Pokemon enclosure," Lysandre explained with a smile of his own, "It goes further in, this is mostly for the ones who enjoy the sun the most. These are from the Capitol's breeding program - they couldn't get all of them out, but they certainly got a lot - Augustine, are you listening?"

Gently setting the Skitty he had been petting down, Augustine shot him a guilty look but nodded anyway - he had heard most of it, he had just been, well, distracted by cuteness. Iris, playing with an Axew, stifled a giggle; Aurea wandered over with a Minccino on her shoulder.

"Lysandre and Hiroshi both suggested that you be assigned here, Augustine," she said with a bright smile. "You've got qualifications in Pokemon biology, right?"

Pulling out the notepad, he quickly jotted down, _Yes, I got my degree in it. It was just meant to be a Talent, but it is a genuine passion. If I had not been Reaped, I was intending to become a researcher._

"He's brilliant," Lysandre added sincerely from behind him, and Augustine felt himself go a little pink. "He has one of the finest minds I've ever encountered -" He quirked a smile here - "And that's not just because I have a bias."

Augustine shot Lysandre a fondly exasperated look, signing, 'Please stop' with a smile to indicate it was not a serious request. Lysandre chuckled again, but did so.

Aurea laughed a little at Lysandre's praise and Augustine's flushed face, giving them both a smile. "It sounds like it's the scientific community's loss, honestly. And really, 'Professor Sycamore' has a very nice ring to it. Right, down to business!" she continued before he could comment on her last statement, rubbing her hands together. "Augustine, would you prefer the morning shift or the afternoon shift? If you have the afternoon, you'll be with me and Iris, if you pick the morning, you'll be with Professor Rowan and Hiroshi. We're pretty evenly matched at the moment, so pick whoever you're more comfortable with!"

Aurea was kind and Iris friendly and bubbly, but they were both residents of the Capitol, and Augustine hesitated for a moment before signing, 'Morning'. Lysandre translated, and Aurea nodded, smiling broadly. "Of course! You and Hiroshi are good friends, aren't you?"

He nodded, grateful he did not have to explain his actual reasoning.

"It's boys versus girls!" Iris laughed, the Axew finally wandering off. She straightened up, brushing off her coveralls, and came closer. "Want me to show you where everything is, like the food and medicines and stuff? Hiroshi and Professor Rowan can show you later, but you can really wow them by knowing it all already!"

Smiling involuntarily, he nodded again, glancing back at Lysandre. _I'll come back to the room in a little while,_ he jotted down in the notebook, _It seems I am getting the grand tour!_

"Of course," Lysandre smiled back, leaning forward to give him a quick kiss. "I will see you later."

He turned away, and imagined he saw, out of the corner of his eye, the smile on Lysandre's face faltering.

 

The next days slipped inexorably by; Augustine settled into a routine, mornings working with the Pokemon with Hiroshi and Professor Rowan (older and far more serious, but encouraging, the type of mentor he would have liked at university) and afternoons spent with his friends - playing cards (Hiroshi had a vast and sometimes ridiculous knowledge of them, including some he had never heard of), working on sign language (Diantha was a particularly dab hand with languages), having mock battles with their Pokemon (Shauna was the first to celebrate her starter's evolution, the sight of the tiny girl and the hulking Chesnaught an amusing one; Renard apparently not enjoying being left behind and promptly evolving in the battle immediately following Fariha's evolution, much to Serena's delight). Lysandre got reacquainted with Incendie, having not seen the Pyroar for a significant amount of time; Augustine ensured that he gave Artemis plenty of attention to compensate for spending so much time with the Pokemon in the unit.

And then there were the parts that were not so pleasant - his ongoing struggles with trying to swallow down his food, the sheer tastelessness of the stuff in the first place, the near-constant nightmares every time he slept, waking up gasping and damp-eyed in Lysandre's arms.

For nineteen years, he had dreamt of his Tributes dying helplessly while he watched; now, thanks to the Capitol's particular brand of interrogation, he remembered them anew, the memories sharpened, combining with the usual nightmares of grasping hands tugging at his limbs, forcing him to his knees or onto his back or forcing his legs apart, helpless and exposed as his dream self screamed and cried and begged, all the words he had never been permitted to say during these little encounters, all the words he never would be able to say now; mixed in with new terrible images of mutilated mouths and asphyxiation and choking on his own blood and feverish memories of slitting his own throat and terrified imaginings of slitting Lysandre's, or Diantha's, or the girls'.

He would wake up in the mornings and dry his eyes, and then he would bury himself in his work with the Pokemon, and by the time night came around, he would almost feel brave enough to attempt to sleep once more.

And then there was the matter of Lysandre.

Something was wrong with him and he could not articulate what, other than him seeming brooding and quiet, scowling when he thought no one was watching, expression twisting in anxiety out of the corner of Augustine's eye. There was a desperate, searching sadness about him and he did not know why, and so, one evening when Steven and Wallace were playing a card game with the other victors and Hiroshi was contacting his boyfriend in Kanto, Augustine confronted him about it.

'What's wrong?' he signed, slowly and carefully, and for a moment Lysandre did not answer.

"Do you ever wonder," he eventually said hoarsely, "What the point is?"

Augustine gave him a questioning look.

"What the point of fighting is," he clarified, gazing at the wall like he would find all the answers written there. "The Capitol is well-stocked and well-armed. So is the rebellion. This is not a one-sided battle, there would be no swift victory. The fighting will be long and drawn out. Resources will dwindle on all sides as more and more funds go towards combat. A great many innocents will die - children will die in a war to protect children!" Lysandre had raised his voice here; he calmed himself with great effort. "What is the point of a prolonged war if it leads to more suffering? A victory for our side would not guarantee lasting peace. Life leads to suffering. If we are fighting to prevent suffering, it is almost as if..."

He trailed off, biting down on his lip, and something in Augustine's chest twinged hard at the pain on his lover's face. Gently, he touched the tips of one hand to Lysandre's cheek, quietly offering support and companionship.

"It is almost as if," Lysandre finished in a whisper, "If we want to truly stop suffering, then all life must end. It is the _only_ way to ensure that no one will ever hurt again." He closed his eyes and hastily added, "Of course, this is all hypothetical. It is - impossible that anything like this will ever be done. But..."

Augustine took his hand, offering wordless support.

"You said so yourself," Lysandre said quietly, turning Augustine's hand over in his own, tracing a heart shape on his palm. "You said, in the Arena, that it would be better to end things quickly than to suffer the long and painful death that the poison would have caused. You said so yourself, that it would be better to take things into your own hands, to choose the manner of our deaths instead of eventually losing them in some painful, prolonged war. Didn't you?"

Augustine did not answer immediately, gazing at his hand in Lysandre's. It had seemed so different then - just one person, slowly choking on air, better to end things swiftly than suffer a slow death. But - this idea of Lysandre's, that it would be better to end all life rather than take the chance of suffering...

What was going on in his mind? What was happening to him?

He reached for the notebook. _I did. But I was one person and I made that choice myself. You can't choose for people. You can't tell someone you would rather they die than face possible suffering._

And then he remembered thinking precisely that about his Tributes before the Games had started and something twisted violently in his stomach.

_I can't accept this,_ he added in the notebook, sliding it across to Lysandre, not meeting his eye.

But he could understand it. And if he could understand it, then Lysandre certainly could, could see the logic in it.

And that was the most frightening part of all.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Non-explicit mentions of underaged forced prostitution and torture.

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

The minimum age for joining the rebellion, Shauna thought grumpily as she made her way down to the dining hall for lunch that day, really should have been twelve.

If they were old enough to face the horrors of Reaping Day, then they were old enough to be able to fight to stop it, surely. And yet the Tributes had been left out, forgotten, ignored - they were too young and too inexperienced, the higher-ups would claim, and had not yet proven themselves as true rebels.

Too young, her broken left foot. Hugh, the boy from Western Unova who had won the Games the year before, had joined up - and he was only fifteen!

At least they could do _something_ in the base to ward off boredom and stagnancy. Shauna had been assigned to the archives, scanning and photographing old records that the rebellion had accumulated over the years. The very oldest were still coded tapes that they no longer had the technology to read, and these, she painstakingly removed the dust from before sealing them in airtight bags; others, she could convert to more modern formats, and the print material she could simply scan.

There was rather a lot of it. The rebellion had a hodgepodge of records from a myriad of sources, some duplicated over and over again, and Shauna would have to work through each piece to match them with any corresponding records, occasionally finding a name she recognised jumping out at her and learning some new and interesting fact about her fellow rebels (Drasna actually had a Sinnohan background, and if her grandparents had not moved to Kalos, she might have been reaped for Sinnoh instead, and that, in fact, made Augustine part Sinnohan; Hiroshi, apparently, had three names, including an official, Unovanised name of 'Harry' - he definitely seemed more like a 'Hiroshi' to her - and an Unovanised birth name of 'Hannah'; Lysandre, at the age of thirteen, had once been disciplined for spray painting graffiti what could only be described in the records as 'obscene words and images' on the side of a Capitol building, and she grinned at the image of a much smaller Lysandre spray painting rude words).

Smiling at the memory of finding a photo earlier that day of a twelve-year-old Diantha in one of her first movie roles, Shauna joined the flow of people making their way to the dining hall, receiving her tray then rising up on her toes to scan for Serena or Trevor or one of the mentors.

There - Lysandre's distinctive hair was hard to miss, and from there, her gaze skipped to Serena, and Trevor and Tierno, and Hiroshi, and Diantha. Even Augustine was there, although he had no plate in front of him (apparently he preferred to eat alone, these days). Sliding into the spare seat next to Serena, she offered the group a smile. "Hi! How were your mornings?"

The little group murmured various affirmative sounds, Augustine signing a 'good' as well. 

"I found a picture of you when you were twelve, Diantha," Shauna told her with a smile, shovelling a forkful of potato into her mouth as soon as she finished talking. Swallowing the bite, she added, "From some movie. You were really cute!"

Diantha laughed, brushing her bangs back. "Why, thank you!" she beamed, glanced back at Augustine and Lysandre, and pressed on. "Shauna, dearest, how would you like to help us by doing something in front of the camera yourself?"

Shauna blinked, setting down her fork. "Like... acting, and stuff?" she asked, dubiousness obvious in her voice.

"Not quite," Lysandre said with a shake of his head. "They're called propos - propaganda spots. No doubt you've seen the Capitol propos - the rebellion has decided that we will fight back in exactly the same way." Turning to Augustine, he murmured, "May I?"

Augustine nodded, gaze flicking to the table.

"It's because of Augustine, mostly," he continued softly, and Shauna did not miss the way his hand dropped down to stroke the back of his lover's. "Because of what he said, and because of Diantha being able to record that. Apparently, the Capitol and those in the regions are quite eager to learn more about our experiences."

He pulled a face, and Shauna bit her lip - she knew precisely what those experiences were, and from the look of horrified disgust on Hiroshi's face, so did he - it was only Trevor and Tierno, perhaps, that didn't know.

And they would know soon enough, know about how the Capitol had abused them.

"Are - are you sure?" she asked, softly and hesitantly, and Augustine and Lysandre both managed nods, although neither looked particularly thrilled about the idea.

"The idea that the producers are going with," Diantha explained, "Is 'The Untold Stories'. With the Games, the Capitol always crafts some sort of narrative around the Victor - for Lysandre's year, for instance, they played up his heritage and essentially told the story of a son of the kings of old regaining honour for his family. It's all bullshit, of course -" Shauna blinked at the sight of elegant, graceful Diantha swearing - "But the audience enjoys it thoroughly. So the idea here is to tell the stories that _don't_ get told, and use the tag line, 'The Capitol tells you one story. Learn the other side.' They'd like any of the Victors or Tributes - and that includes you four - to tell their side of the story, and tell people what's _really_ going on. Could you do that for us?"

Slowly, she nodded. "But - what kind of thing do I tell them? I mean... everyone saw what the Arena was like..."

Lysandre shook his head fiercely. "No, they see a television show. They see the whiteness of the snow but don't understand the cold. They see the flames but don't feel the heat of the fire. They've never been bitten by a Basculin mutt or fallen down a crevice or run from an erupting volcano -"

Shauna blinked again, turning to Tierno and staring open-mouthed as he ducked his head in embarrassment -

"Or anything that the Arena threw at us. They don't know what it's like to stand on the stage on Reaping Day and they don't know what it's like to make friends only to be told you have to kill them. They don't know what it's like to have to set aside any dream you ever had for your future because in a tiny handful of weeks, you'll either be dead or the Capitol's plaything." He exhaled roughly, dropping his gaze again. "You have plenty of stories. Just be honest and tell them how you felt. Let them know what it _means_ to be a Chosen One forced to play in the Games of a world gone mad!"

Letting out her breath slowly and evenly, Shauna lifted her head to study her mentors - Augustine, pale but resigned; Lysandre, blazing with anger and passion, and nodded once. "Okay," she whispered, "I'll do it."

 

The propos were simultaneously like nothing she had ever done before, and far too much like the Capitol, all at the same time.

Hair done and carefully made up, but dressed and deliberately designed to make her look young and innocent and about twelve at the most, Shauna perched on a box hastily draped in black cloth, a charcoal backdrop behind her, her crutches propped prominently beside her, and numbly recounted her experiences. They would be edited and trimmed, removing her 'um's and 'uh's for the times where she could not find the words to explain her terror, the horror, the nightmares she still routinely suffered. She finally slipped off the box with a profound sense of relief, joining Serena on the sidelines and watching as Trevor stepped up next.

Clinging to the hovercraft crane, pressed against Calem's body, as it was lifted from the crevice, the only way Trevor would ever be able to get out again; having to drop to the snow as soon as they were clear - Trevor left the set-up white and shaken, and Shauna immediately wrapped an arm around his shoulders, both caught up in Tierno's Ursaring hug.

"Tough deal, Trevs," he said sympathetically, and the four took their leave, letting the propo makers to work out what to do with their footage, waiting for the older Victors to tell their stories.

And what stories they were.

Eusine, his voice raw, spoke about the future that he and Morty had planned for themselves, about how the Capitol had just ensured that it would never, ever happen.

Clair joined Norman and May as they spoke about how the Capitol ripped families apart, about how she had been Reaped to punish her cousin Lance and how he had paid for the Capitol's mistreatment with his life, about May's terror in the Arena and the guilt and fear Norman had felt watching his little girl and knowing that it was his fault that she was in there, about how Janine had died in her father's arms trying to get them free and how Koga followed shortly after, about how Byron had become a broken man after his son Roark's death, and about how he had given his life so that children like Dawn would survive.

Steven and Wallace, holding hands, spoke about how Steven had been used as a toy for the Capitol when he had still only been a child, just fourteen years old when they had begun the abuse, about how they threatened the lives of Steven's father and Wallace as well if he did not comply.

N spun the most fascinating tale about growing up as the son of the President - Ghetsis had come into power when N had been six, and ten years later, he had tried to send his son to his death. This was one of the stories that would most fascinate people, Shauna knew, watching as he tore through his tales of his childhood, of how the beloved Capitol President was, in fact, a child abuser, about how his own father had conspired to kill him as N had grown up and discovered that perhaps the rebellion had the right idea, after all.

Shauna did not recall seeing the filming of Valerie, Grant, and Siebold's propo, save for hands clinging together and Valerie's soft, wavering voice as she described their time in captivity. Instead, she found herself watching her mentors, Lysandre and Augustine with their eyes closed, Augustine's forehead resting on Lysandre's shoulder, holding each other for comfort and stability and hope and love. Augustine was called up and did not move immediately, then Lysandre drew back and kissed him gently, and Shauna looked away, feeling like she was intruding.

The question of how Augustine was going to do a propo was answered when Hiroshi followed him to the stage, positioning himself just behind the cameras. Augustine had cards, it seemed, and Hiroshi read from them steadily, managing a perfect Capitol accent to disguise his own slight Kantonese lilt. The story he told, though, was not of the abuses the Capitol had enacted on him since his victory - instead, he told the tale of his time in captivity, about how they had stopped his death for the sole purpose of having a living rebel to interrogate, saving his life just so they could refuse to relinquish control of it. By the time he finished describing how he had paid for his refusal to talk with the Capitol ensuring that he would never talk again, he was pale and shaken, stumbling off the makeshift stage and into Lysandre's arms, Hiroshi joining them in a group hug and looking rather worse the wear for having to narrate it, too.

By the time Lysandre went up on stage, the only surviving Mountain Kalos mentor left, Shauna was feeling emotionally wrung out, biting down hard on her lip and holding on to Serena's hand as Lysandre described exactly what the Capitol had forced him, and Augustine, and Steven, and a myriad of other Victors, to do. Lysandre had only been her age when they had started doing that to him, and she turned and buried her face against Serena's shoulder in sudden panicked nausea at the thought of them doing that to her, too.

But the rebels had what they needed, now. The videos were rushed off to be edited in preparation for their worldwide premier, Fennel and Amanita working through the night to ensure that they aired as completely as possible all around the world, in the Capitol, in the regions, in the countries that supported the Games and those who objected to them.

They would show the world the true story of what the Capitol was like.

And then, perhaps, the world would start to change.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Discussion of war and death.

**Chapter Twenty-Seven ******

"Okay," came Drasna's soft voice, quiet and reassuring and gentle. "Okay. But please come and talk to me if you feel you need to, alright? Or Augustine, he's still very good at listening. Sleep well."

The door swung open, and Drasna stepped out, looking utterly exhausted as she shut the door behind her. "She's going to try to sleep, the poor thing," she murmured as she spotted Lysandre and Augustine waiting anxiously outside the girls' room, "Shauna is with her."

"Shauna is good at reassuring people," Lysandre agreed, one hand absently trailing up and down Augustine's back. "Do we know where else the bombardments have been?"

Drasna shook her head wearily, brushing her hair back. "Aside from Vaniville, Aquacorde, and Santalune, Ambrette, Laverre, and Snowbelle? There are rumours about Anistar, but nothing confirmed yet, and there _are_ some stories about Kiloude taking damage from our side. We don't actually know who holds it right now, but the train line to Lumiose is certainly down. Are - you alright?"

Lysandre made an impatient noise, nodding once. Kiloude held no sentimentality for him - it may have been his home since he was sixteen, but the Victor's Village was yet another reminder of the Capitol's manipulation. If it had been bombed out of existence, so much the better - he could not bear the thought of returning there alone, Olympia and Wulfric's houses empty and abandoned. "I don't care about Kiloude, honestly," he said dryly. "I'm more concerned about the casualties. Do we know of anyone else, other than Serena's mother?"

"Not yet," Drasna sighed, "But I'm sure they will come. Kalos hasn't seen bombing like that since the war."

Slowly, Lysandre nodded, watching her curiously. Drasna would have been eight years old when the war had ended; she would have lived through the bombardments personally. Had Santalune been bombed? He could not remember. Still, if it had been, it certainly had been rebuilt - only to burn all over again, the nearby forest becoming an inferno that had wiped out not just Santalune but Aquacorde as well.

There was not a great deal left of southern Kalos.

And it would not have been a swift death. Southern Kalos had been fire-bombed, and the fires would have spread swiftly through the region, full of forests and older wooden buildings, the kinds built in regions struck by poverty. People would have suffocated and burned, their last moments full of pain and suffering.

Serena's mother Grace had seen her off on Reaping Day with the mistaken belief that she would outlive her daughter. Now, Serena would know that the opposite had been true - at the very least, she would not know that her house had been targeted deliberately. At least Shauna had no living family; at least Trevor's family had had the foresight to leave as soon as it became apparent that their son had taken up with the rebels, at least Tierno's father was relatively safe in Capitol-held Coumarine.

But if the fighting spread there, then what? Would Tierno become an orphan as well as the girls? Would Trevor's parents and his sister be targeted for their son and brother's political activities? These conflicts, this rebellion, was going to turn into another war, and this was something simply unacceptable. On that, he and the Capitol could _both_ agree.

So many people would die in a war. There would be so much pointless suffering. Would it not be better to end things swiftly?

These thoughts and more were on his mind during the planning meeting held later that evening. Lysandre watched Augustine out of the corner of his eye, carefully gauging reactions - how he felt about open war, how he felt about giving the Capitol a taste of their own medicine and bombing them into submission, how he felt about attempting to talk things over again and again while the fighting continued.

He was definitely watching Augustine when he spoke up, the words being bitten off like a staccato. "If we go to war, thousands will die and suffer. Tens of thousands. If we bomb the Capitol, they will have ammunition against us, accusing us of bombing innocent children. Talking things over will take as long as _they_ want it to, and in the mean time, they will cause even more suffering. We need to end things _quickly_ and we need to end things decisively. _We need to find the legendaries._ "

To his surprise, it was N who was the first to nod. "I agree, but which ones?" he asked tentatively. "Reshiram and Zekrom are close, but they might be hard to find. I don't know, we could ask the Pokemon around there if they know of any clues, but the stones are supposed to be very small..."

"I propose we split into several teams, then," Lysandre explained calmly. "One group will go into Unova and attempt to find signs of Reshiram and Zekrom, and, ideally, attempt to learn what Pokemon the President has. This group will have the most dangerous job, with their proximity to the Capitol. The remaining groups travel across the ocean to Nihon and attempt to search for any of the legendaries there - particularly those of Sinnoh and Hoenn. And a last group will travel overland to Kalos and attempt to find our own legendaries."

Augustine looked unsurprised but cautious, watching Lysandre carefully and quietly, his lips curved faintly in a frown.

"I'll return to Hoenn," Steven volunteered with a nod. "And it should also be a good opportunity for anyone who wants to go home - although we _need_ to stress that the conditions there could be much more dangerous than staying in Orre, and we won't actually know until we get there."

"That's their choice to make," Lysandre agreed. "I will return to Kalos. Augustine?"

He nodded once, bumping his foot against Lysandre's reassuringly under the table and offering him a faint smile. Drasna added her agreement, and Alexa hesitated, then shook her head. She would return to Kalos, yes - but when she did, she would focus on finding her sister Viola, who had not yet been listed amongst the dead for Santalune. Drasna, seated beside her, gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze.

A few of the agreed combinations were, admittedly, a little unexpected. Professor Rowan, a citizen of Sinnoh, agreed to come with them to Kalos - perhaps he wished to avoid Sinnoh's frigid winters, but Kalos was not a great deal better, especially in the mountains where it was rumoured that Zygarde could be found. Hiroshi wavered visibly, then shook his head, muttering that he'd decide between Kanto and Kalos when they first arrived in Nihon. Kris and Clair would travel to Sinnoh instead under Cynthia's guidance; Eusine alone would return to Johto, to attempt to seek out the legendary Suicune. Grant, Valerie, and Siebold simply wanted to go home, and he could not begrudge them that.

The meeting adjourned, and Lysandre exhaled softly as he returned to the room with Augustine and the others behind him.

He was going to seek out Yveltal.

He was going to go home.

 

"I'm requesting an update on the search."

"Glad you called, boss, I was just about sick of waiting. We found it. We found the cocoon. Now, mind telling me what the bloody hell we're meant to _do_ with it?"

"Don't touch it for now. I have a need for it, although it will require some advance preparations. Xerosic, can I trust you?"

"Absolutely."

"Fine. There is... a weapon. The Ultimate Weapon. My ancestor's brother created and used it to end a war in an instant three thousand years ago. With Yveltal's power, it will be the most powerful force on the planet. We can overthrow the Capitol with it. We can ensure that there will be peace. I need you to activate it."

"..."

"Xerosic?"

"Yes. Sorry, boss, it's a bit much to take in. What do we need?"

"Energy. A great deal of electricity, and - the energy from Pokemon. Acquire as many as you can. It will be... a sacrifice, but it will be necessary. I'll be leaving for Kalos shortly. When I arrive, I want it ready to go. Do you understand?"

"It should be an interesting experiment, if nothing else. It will be ready."

"Thank you, Xerosic."

 

Gateon Port was busy enough that they barely had to concern themselves with disguises, even if Lysandre was grateful that the weather had turned cold enough that coats and hats and scarves were required. It would be an added layer of insurance, making them look like any other tourist (complete with battered suitcases) as they hurried towards their ship - smaller, not nearly as luxurious as the cruise ships that routinely took them between Coumarine and the Capitol, but probably all the more safe for it.

Definitely smaller than the cruise ship, Lysandre decided as he gazed at the little room he and Augustine had been assigned. There would be barely enough room to turn around in it, and the beds, fixed to the walls, were narrow enough that they would practically have to be on top of each other if they were to share.

(Admittedly, that particular idea had its own appeal.)

Still, it was pleasant, the freedom of being out from under the eye of the Capitol a welcome one. The captain, an old man from Hoenn accompanied everywhere by his Wingull, was both pleasant and deeply sympathetic to their cause, apparently an old friend of Steven's father. He treated the Hoennite as another son (and Wallace, by extension, as a son-in-law), doted on May like a grandfather, gave the exhausted and occasionally traumatised Tributes and Victors comfort when they needed it and privacy when it was necessary, too.

Bundled up in heavy coats, gloved hand in gloved hand, Lysandre and Augustine watched the ocean go by, Augustine's attention occasionally caught by Tentacool and Lumineon and Mantine, Seadra and Jellicent and Alomomola, and once, memorably, a Wailord; Lysandre's attention caught by Augustine, watching the wind tangling his curls (and giving him the perfect excuse to run his fingers through them, ostensibly to 'de-tangle' them), his grey eyes warm.

How could he do this? How could he end Augustine's life? And yet, how could he let him continue to suffer? The hours spent up on the deck watching the world slip by were poor consolation for waking up every night, wide-eyed and white-faced from the nightmares that gave no sign of ceasing.

Would it be better to suffer, but with the hope of a future? Or to end things, and know that their pain would end? For a single person, it would be suicide. What would that make him, if he made the decision for the whole world?

A maniac?

A hero?

Lysandre watched Augustine watching the sea, and prayed that he would find the answers he needed swiftly.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Disturbing nightmares, non-explicit sexual content.

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

It was a little like learning Unovan in school all over again.

Augustine had always been expressive. He gestured widely, he spoke with his hands, he would fling a hand out to emphasise a point or bring his hands together beseechingly when requesting something. He would hold his hands close at the parties, closing himself off both in mind and body, and he would cling to and touch and stroke and caress Lysandre's own hands, his arms and shoulders, wrap his arms around his waist for support and comfort.

Sign language, then, seemed to be a natural extension. The time spent in close quarters was doing wonders for his vocabulary, practising from videos and holos, repeating sentences over and over again until he could get it right, until he could use his hands like he had once used his voice.

And the others were learning with him. It was starting to become second nature to sign hello or to make a request, catching someone's eye or tapping their shoulder instead of calling out a greeting. And, too, he was becoming a little more confident with the few sounds he _could_ still make - the Capitol had tried to steal his voice, but he refused to hide it away forever.

Like now, as he entered the lounge where they spent the majority of their time. "Hey," he managed as he settled down beside Lysandre, the Unovan greeting easier for him to articulate than the Kalosian 'salut'. Switching to sign language, he added, 'What are you doing?'

"Sharing ideas," Lysandre murmured, brushing back a strand of Augustine's hair absent-mindedly. "Making plans for the future." He quirked a faint smile, a hint of sadness in those blue eyes. "If we actually succeed, and if there actually is a future."

'There will be,' Augustine signed determinedly, leaning his head against Lysandre's shoulder and smiling as Lysandre's arm slipped around his waist.

"Right!" Hiroshi was saying, a broad grin on his face, gesticulating enthusiastically enough that he nearly hit Professor Rowan in the nose, "I'm going to reclaim the idea of games. _Good_ games, ones that people _enjoy_ without anyone getting hurt! Have you ever considered using holo technology to simulate Pokemon battles? It'd be so much easier to spread!"

Serena made a thoughtful sound. "I kind of want to be an actual trainer," she admitted, swinging one leg, "But holos could be a good way to introduce people to it..."

"Yeah, yeah! And it'd let the Pokemon populations recover! I mean, you know, catching 'em puts a lot of strain on their numbers, so none of them would get hurt with holos... maybe in cards..."

"I want to study geology," said Steven, much to the surprise of absolutely no one who had spent more than two minutes talking to him.

(Tierno snickered. "You've got the name for it!"

"It's actually Tsuwabuki," Steven grinned back, "My father picked 'Stone' as our Unovanised name _because_ we like rocks."

"Oh!")

Drasna wanted to raise Dragons (Augustine released Artemis with a smile, and the Garchomp immediately trotted over to her for a pat); Clair immediately agreed, and the two retreated to start discussing the relative merits of Dragon sanctuaries. Diantha wanted to act - properly, like she had as a child, in films to make people happy, not interviewing terrified children being sent to their deaths, and Eusine mused thoughtfully about, perhaps, learning to be a magician.

Valerie spoke sincerely about her desire to be a Pokemon, breaking into giggles at the strange looks she received, shaking her head and saying that she really meant to be a fashion designer (but, perhaps, with Pokemon-inspired designs like those seen in the Capitol - but for everyone, and by choice).

Augustine immediately pictured Lysandre in a Pyroar-inspired costume, and smiled.

Grant did not know, save for the desire to do as much cycling, rock climbing, and swimming in the ocean as he could possibly fit in. Siebold grinned and said that he'd at least join him in the swimming ("Well, I'm staying on the shore where it's _dry_!" Valerie mock-huffed, tossing her head), as well as planning to open a restaurant in Lumiose City.

They wanted a family together, the three of them, in a world where the Capitol could not touch their children.

The children, for the most part, had no such fixed ideas - Serena wanted to train Pokemon, Trevor wanted to learn all he could about them. Shauna simply wanted to make memories, and Tierno wanted to become a dancer - Dawn only wanted a chance to be a normal teenager without having to worry about Reapings, and May and Norman both decided to train Pokemon together.

They were comfortable dreams. Attainable ones. The chance of a normal life, should their plans work.

"What about you, Augustine?" Serena called out from her seat beside Shauna, and Augustine hesitated for a moment.

'I want to...' No, he didn't quite have the vocabulary for this yet, and he pulled out the notepad with a sigh. _I want to study Pokemon properly - maybe try to do postgraduate studies and become a proper researcher. But beyond that, I also just want to spend time with my loved ones._ He gave the notepad to Lysandre and then slipped his hand into his lover's, smiling faintly as Lysandre read it out and squeezed his fingers gently at the last line.

"We can," Lysandre murmured in his ear, softly and intimately. "If we manage to end this peacefully -" his voice caught - "We can have all the time in the world."

 

They dined, Augustine managing to finish his soup at the table with the others, they spent more time talking and listening, and they returned to their rooms. The journey to Nihon had already taken them the better part of a week, and they still had a good three days left before they would manage to make landfall - from there, the train to Kalos would take another three days, and this would be the most dangerous part of all.

It was unlikely for Capitol ships to accost them in the middle of the ocean. But stopping and boarding a train? It was distinctly plausible, and Augustine fell asleep with phantom Peacekeepers chasing him from the shadows.

_They have caught them, they have caught them and now they will hurt them, and the grip around his wrists is so tight it is cutting into his skin, blood dripping down his fingers and the ring slipping off with a light clink. A heavy Peacekeeper boot treads down and crushes the ring into powder, and he cries out, wordless and choking._

_They have Lysandre, they have forced him to his knees with his arms tied cruelly behind his back, a blindfold hiding those unfathomable blue eyes but his lips parted uncertainly, fearfully. Fearfully? Lysandre does not show fear and yet he shows it now, a tremor racing through him._

_Augustine looks down at himself and finds his own hands shackled, and he is forced to his own knees, a blindfold wrapped around his own eyes. There are hands pulling at him, tugging at his limbs, manipulating him like a marionette, pulling his hair and yanking his head back._

_They pull off the blindfold and Lysandre is in Peacekeeper white, his eyes still shielded by the blindfold but a gun in his hand, and Augustine cannot say a word, cannot scream, cannot shout, cannot plead as Lysandre raises the gun and rests it as gently as a caress against Augustine's forehead._

_"Do you know what you're doing?" he begs, mouthing the words silently, no voice left to say it out loud, "Lysandre, do you know what you're doing?"_

_Lysandre does not answer, and the last thing that Augustine sees before he pulls the trigger are his lips shaping the words, "I'm sorry."_

Augustine snapped awake with an inarticulate cry, the blankets tangled around his limbs as he fought to free himself from the shackles and blindfold he could still feel. Still half asleep, he only barely registered Lysandre's voice calling his name before strong arms wrapped around him, stroking his hair, murmuring reassurances, freeing his legs from the knotted blankets.

"It was just a dream," Lysandre murmured, dropping kisses over his forehead and cheeks, "Just a dream, you're safe, you're safe."

Letting out an exhausted sigh, Augustine ceased struggling, letting himself go limp in Lysandre's arms. Lysandre was here and he was safe and there were no Peacekeepers in sight, no Capitol to hurt them. Lysandre would not harm him; he would soothe the nightmares away, he would ensure that he would sleep peacefully, and, silently, Augustine slid over on the bed as far as he could go without hitting the wall, patting the empty spot next to him.

It was a tight squeeze, but Lysandre laid down immediately, pulling Augustine into his arms, still stroking his hair.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" he murmured against Augustine's skin, "I could get your notepad, if you want."

He made a negative sound - somehow, he had the suspicion that telling Lysandre, "You turned into a Peacekeeper and then shot me in the head" would only serve to disturb the both of them. Instead, he simply held on to him, feeling the pulse beneath his skin and the warmth of his body against Augustine's, and with another gentle, wordless sound, he ran the tips of his fingers down Lysandre's chest and stomach, earning a soft catch of Lysandre's breath.

_Make me feel alive,_ he begged silently, then tugged at Lysandre's arm to make him watch, to look at the signs he was making, exaggerated in the half-light, his fingers trembling. _Make me feel alive._

Lysandre gazed at him for a long moment, and then kissed him hard.

Augustine let out a breathy, desperate sound he would have probably been embarrassed by, had he not needed Lysandre to touch him so badly. He could still feel the remnants of the nightmare, the terror and betrayal of Lysandre's actions, and there was neediness in every action as he tugged Lysandre on top of him, a need to erase the dream with reality.

"Augustine," Lysandre whispered once, his own breath catching in his throat as he ran his hands reverently down Augustine's ribs and hips and thighs, the ring on his finger a cool contrast to the heat of his skin. "Augustine, you're beautiful, you're safe, you're alive and you're mine, je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime," he murmured, over and over again, Augustine silencing him with kisses, tasting his words and speaking back in sighs and moans.

This was a language that they could not take from him, that they could never take from either of them, and Augustine threw his head back as Lysandre sucked and licked and bit a mark into life on his collarbone, one hand ridding them both of their sleeping clothes.

Lysandre stopped and slowed, drew back, gazed down at Augustine beneath him like he was something priceless, like he was causing him the best kind of pain and the worst kind of joy. "Do you want me to keep going?" he whispered, and Augustine let out a sound that was almost a whimper as he nodded, keeping his gaze locked on Lysandre, his clear blue eyes almost black in the half-light of the room. "Okay. Okay."

There was a slow fire in Augustine's veins at Lysandre's touches, his skin blazing as he trailed his fingers down his sides, across his hips, tracing patterns against his legs as Augustine wrapped them around Lysandre's waist. Their joining was slow, comfortable, as much for comfort and intimacy as it was for pleasure and arousal. He could concentrate solely on Lysandre's touch and Lysandre's movements, let himself be swept away with it.

He could forget his nightmares, forget that the Capitol existed, forget the Arena and the deaths of hundreds he could not save, forget the coming war, forget interrogation and torture and mutilation, forget degradation and abuse, forget everything that had ever happened to them.

He could forget it all save for this moment, this place in time and space where they were safe and together and alive, and know that it would be over soon - but for now, they were untouchable.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Violence and blood.

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

Arriving in Nihon meant saying goodbye to people they had got to know over the past few weeks.

Pulling up at a rickety dock near the outskirts of Pastoria, those bound for Sinnoh, Johto, and Kanto disembarked and said their goodbyes. Hiroshi had decided to stay after all and now sat beside Augustine, swinging one leg absent-mindedly, watching the goodbyes. Shauna pulled away from hugging Cynthia goodbye and wished her luck, and raised one hand to wave a farewell to all of them as they stepped away from the boat.

They were on their own, now.

There would be one more stop in Nihon before returning to the mainland and the train that would carry them back to Kalos, and Slateport saw the parting of the Hoennites; May clinging to her father's hand, Steven and Wallace saying their goodbyes to Augustine and Lysandre, the quartet already discussing the next movements with their rebellion contacts (an odd pair, a large tanned man in blue who looked like he would have made a good pirate, and a lanky, thin redhead who kept pushing at his glasses in agitation). And then there was nowhere else to go but the mainland, to board the cross-region train and to hope and to pray that they would not be boarded, that they would not be recognised.

It was frigid, winter well and truly started, as they boarded with fake identification and their faces covered in scarves, grateful for the tiny rural station and its lack of retina scanners or fingerprint verification. On the ship, they had made changes to their looks, as well - Shauna tugged at her new ponytail awkwardly, Serena ran a hand through her much shorter hair. Augustine had brushed his hair back, his distinctive curls weighed down with gel; Lysandre's hair was loose and fell freely around his face, startlingly different without the beard even if the colour was still his own.

Perhaps they should have dyed their hair as well. Still, they only had so many resources, and they kept their heads down as they shuffled into the three sleepers they had managed to get. It would be a tight squeeze with the fourteen of them - Shauna sharing a bed with Serena; Diantha, Valerie, and Alexa claiming the other three, Augustine and Lysandre squashed in with Hiroshi, Grant, and Siebold, and the boys, Trevor and Tierno, sharing with Rowan and Drasna.

Tierno and Trevor were the lucky ones. At least they got beds of their own.

Hiroshi and Rowan, the least-recognisable of the group, were the ones responsible for going between the sleepers, bringing their meals and sharing news. It was during one of these visits that Hiroshi explained the plan Lysandre had come up with as they dug into unappetisingly gluey pasta and dry sandwiches.

"Okay, so Lysandre did some reading while on the ship," he told them, his voice hushed out of sheer force of habit. "Back in Orre, he downloaded a shitload - oh, sorry, Spoinktails - a lot of reading material on unexplained phenomena in Kalos, and there's all these stories and they're all focused on two areas. He thinks there's probably one of the legendaries in those places."

"Which ones?" Shauna asked curiously, swinging her legs idly from the top bunk (and grateful for the lack of cast, now, even if her foot routinely ached).

Digging into his pocket, Hiroshi pulled out a hand drawn map. Shauna peered at it in interest - it was of Kalos, the three divisions, major towns, and significant landmarks labelled in what she recognised as Augustine's handwriting. He tapped the map, furthest to the east. "Right, the train stops here in Couriway before going down to Kiloude and then Lumiose, right? We're gonna get off here. There's these caves nearby, they used to be these coal mines, but they shut down decades ago because of rumours of a monster living in it." He raised an eyebrow. "Could be our cave-dwelling Legendary, Zygarde, right?"

"It sounds like it - _and_ it's close!" Diantha grinned, inspecting the map herself. "That could be our first port of call - I've been to Couriway, the mines are only about a half hour's walk from the town."

Serena frowned, raising a hand tentatively. "Isn't Couriway held by the Capitol? It might be hard getting off the train there."

Hiroshi shook his head. "At last check, when we were in Hoenn, the rebellion managed to have it. It was always one of those towns that goes back and forth. Neither would ever stop the trains, though, they'd never cut them off or they'd be blocked from supplies."

"Hopefully," Alexa muttered.

Giving her a wry smile, Hiroshi continued. "Okay, so we've got one other possibility if the old mines don't pan out, and that's - well, way on the other side of Kalos, unfortunately. Any of you familiar with Geosenge?"

Of the five, Valerie was the only one who nodded. "It's very near Cyllage, I go through it all the time whenever Grant and I visit the sea. It's old - old and powerful." She shivered. "There are stories... there's something dangerous and sad down there. The Fairies avoid it if they can, especially the Flabébé line. Which - it's not dying. The land isn't poisonous. But they will not go near there."

How had Augustine described it? "A bringer of destruction..." Shauna whispered, and Serena turned to glance at her curiously.

"Do you think Yveltal is there?" she asked, her voice a hushed whisper.

"It could be. It'd match up with the Fairy-types avoiding it. Yveltal, well, represents death." Hiroshi frowned, a troubled expression on his face. "Look, honestly, I'd prefer the caves - they're much closer. To get to Geosenge, we won't be able to go north, the roads would be impassable at this time of the year, and we can't exactly cut through Lumiose - we'd have to go south, and that's a long damn road. We might be able to go through the river system if we get boats."

"Well, I'm not swimming!" Valerie immediately said, and a ripple of laughter ran through the sleeper. "The rivers will take us right to the foot of Menhir Trail, though. That's close to Geosenge."

Diantha pulled a face. "Menhirs... there's stories about them, too. They say that route is haunted."

Shauna wilted a little. Legendary bringers of death, an area that Fairy-types would not go near, and now haunted stones? "This is getting creepy," she shuddered, kicking one leg in the air.

"Yeah, actually. Fighting is one thing. This is a bit... disturbing." Alexa, mostly silent until now, shook her head. "I'll go with you as far as Santalune, but I have to make sure that my sister is alright."

Valerie smiled sadly. "And Grant and Siebold and I - we need time together. We need to recover. The Capitol - did not treat us well. And I would not take my Sylveon to Geosenge."

Shauna jerked a little, immediately feeling a pang of guilt tug at her stomach. She had spent so much time with Augustine and Lysandre - it was easy to forget that he had not been the only one captured by the Capitol, that he wouldn't have been the only one tortured and interrogated. "It's okay," she said softly, "You should look after yourselves, okay?"

Smiling back sadly, Valerie closed her opalescent eyes. "We will. We will take care of each other."  
Hiroshi managed to smile back with relative cheer, despite the suddenly glum atmosphere. "Well, rest up, guys, okay?" he told them, "It's gonna be rough from here on in."

Somehow, Shauna thought gloomily, she had the sneaking suspicion that that was going to be an understatement.

 

The train derailed half a kilometre out of Couriway, and all Shauna could think as she was thrown against the wall was that Hiroshi should have never said it would be rough.

" _Hold on!_ " Valerie screamed as the train slid wildly and uncontrollably down the bank, and Shauna clung to the side of the bunk for dear life, tucking her head against her arms, shielding her face. Something knocked against her shoulder hard and she yelped but did not let go, tucking herself into as small a ball as she could until the train finally slid to a halt, letting out a groan of creaking metal.

There was a sudden hush.

"Is everyone okay?" Diantha whispered in the gloom - it was already evening, and the lights had shut off in the crash. Shauna could only barely see her, her eyes wide, one hand wrapped tightly around her Gardevoir's Poke Ball.

"I'm okay," Shauna whispered, and then Serena, and then Valerie and Alex.

Alexa groaned a little as she shoved one of their packs off her leg. "We need to get out of the train," she told them urgently. "The authorities will be here soon, we _can't_ be found." She kicked hard at the window, already cracked and shattered, and the remaining panes fell out with a clink. "Grab what you can, get your coats, and go!"

There was a sudden urgency and fierceness to their actions as they gathered their belongs, Shauna touching two fingers to Fariha's Poke Ball to ensure it was still there before wriggling out the window, landing with a groan and a crunch of glass. Serena was next, stumbling as she landed; Valerie hesitated once before carefully dropping out, Siebold and Grant hurrying over to pick her up off the ground. They had managed to get out already too, and Augustine and Lysandre and Hiroshi - but the window next to theirs, the one with Tierno and Trevor and Drasna and Rowan, seemed to still be intact to the point that it resisted their blows.

Lysandre gritted his teeth, then reached for his own window again and hauled himself back inside. "Just a moment," he called, and he vanished from sight, Augustine gazing up at the train anxiously.

Already, there was movement - much further down, near the engine, there was a flash of light and a hint of smoke in the air, shouting audible as others hurried out of the stricken train.

Reappearing at the window Shauna had escaped from, Lysandre gave them a grim nod, helping pass Trevor down to Grant. Diantha dropped down next, turning back expectantly to help Alexa out.

Blood sprayed across the shattered glass.

Shauna let out a cry, skittering back as the white forms of Peacekeepers swarmed into the sleeper. "Go!" Lysandre's voice came raggedly, a sudden flash of red hair at the window as he struggled, "The place we talked about - _Augustine, go_!"

Letting out a wordless cry of frustration, Augustine took several steps towards the train, reaching up towards the window. It was Hiroshi who caught him, deceptively strong for his height, dragging him backwards. "He said to go, so we go!" he shouted in Augustine's face, "Come on, there's nothing we can do, _move it_ , Augustine!"

Giving one last stricken look at the train, Augustine looked for a moment as if he was going to fight Hiroshi, hand dropping to Artemis' Poke Ball. The Peacekeepers dropping out of the other windows, though, swiftly put an end to that - he turned, still twisting back to the train, and ran, and ran.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty**

Lysandre, Drasna, Tierno, Alexa, Professor Rowan.

Serena ran, Shauna's hand in hers, the other clutching Renard's Poke Ball, her pack thumping against her back. Augustine was just ahead, Hiroshi still holding his arm as if fearing he was going to sprint back to the train, Diantha on his other side; Valerie, Grant, and Siebold behind them, Trevor still on Grant's back.

Lysandre, Drasna, Tierno, Alexa, Professor Rowan.

She could see what had happened, now. The intact window in the third sleeper had slowed them down, just enough. When Lysandre had helped them out, they had barged in - Alexa still had not yet made it out, possibly helping Lysandre, Trevor had only just escaped before the Peacekeepers had arrived.

And the end result was capture or death. Lysandre, Drasna, Tierno, Alexa, Professor Rowan. Who knew if they were still alive? Would they interrogate them, try to determine what their plans were? Would they just kill them on the spot?

Geosenge, now, was their only option. They had caught a glimpse as they had escaped - Couriway was a smoking ruin, the tracks shattered and twisted. The smoke extended beyond it, too - most likely, it extended as far as the mines, and somehow, Serena had the idea that it would be a bad idea to be anywhere featuring heavy amounts of coal while there were things burning.

So they would go to Geosenge, the place where Fairy types would not go, the place where ghosts lingered, the place that reeked of violence, to find a literal Bringer of Death.

Even with the stakes so high, Serena was afraid, she was freely going to admit it.

They had been half running, half walking for the better part of half an hour by the time they finally stopped, Shauna collapsing against a rock and grabbing at her recently broken foot with a whimper. Hastily, Serena dropped to her knees beside her, giving her a look of concern. "Let me see," she murmured.

"It's fine," Shauna managed, although her damp eyes spoke otherwise.

Hers were not the only ones. Augustine wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, already reddened and his face blotchy, trembling as he settled back against a rock himself with Hiroshi and Diantha flanking him protectively. Serena found herself watching him cautiously and sympathetically, forcibly reminded of Lysandre in the Arena, of the raw grief he was barely managing to hide after he believed Augustine had died.

Now, they faced much the same situation, and there was still absolutely nothing she could do about it to help either of them.

It did, however, make one thing very clear - the Capitol had to be stopped, with whatever means was necessary. And if that meant finding Yveltal...

Then, well, so be it.

"Now what?" Trevor asked tiredly, his legs drawn up to his chest beside Shauna. "We're going to Geosenge, right? But it's a long walk - are we going the right way?"

Augustine nodded, pointing up at the direction the moon was rising from. They had managed to stumble south, the path they had intended to take - they simply had to continue on that way, following the river until it turned to the west.

"I think we're near Snowbelle," Shauna murmured, glancing up at the sky and the shape of the mountains. "The marshes we passed are near there. There's a big forest near there - this place is too exposed, but the other forest is huge. We could hide there tonight, and work out where to go from there."

Losing herself in a forest sounded like a fine idea to Serena at that moment, and tiredly, she hauled herself up.

It starrted snowing as they approached Snowbelle, the name rather prophetic. As the stories went, when training Pokemon was still common, Snowbelle had been home to a gym for Ice types. The chill of the gym had blanketed the area in snow, even in the height of summer.

Now, though, it was winter, and this snow was both natural and convenient, hiding their footsteps as it came down with greater speed. Serena wrapped her coat tighter around herself and shoved her hands in the pockets, unhappy that she had left her gloves on the train - the ones the rebellion had provided her with were not the greatest of quality, but they were definitely better than nothing.

They skirted around the town itself, nine ragged figures dressed in whatever the rebellion could find in their size, heads bowed, Pokemon hidden away behind their coats - the mark of being a Victor or a Tribute, something unusual to put further attention on them. Serena longed to have Renard out, to let the Delphox melt a path; failing that, Incendie had kept them warm in the Arena. But he was as out of reach to them as Lysandre was, and she bit her lip sharply at the thought of the proud Pyroar or gentle Gyarados being mistreated by the Capitol as well as their trainer.

By now, the moon was high in the sky, and yet they saw none of this - they had entered the forest, the canopy so dense with evergreen leaves above them that very little snow actually made it to the forest floor. They moved silently, wearily, seeking shelter; the snow dropped off and started to thaw, the ground growing soft and slippery underfoot.

It was still bitterly cold. Serena drew her hands out and rubbed them together fiercely, blowing on her cold fingers. As soon as they stopped, she thought grumpily, she was letting Renard out.

No one, really, was expecting it when they arrived in the meadow.

Most stopped short, caught by surprise at the sight - a rippling field of grass and flowers dusted with snow, densely grown, the sound of a stream running through it. On the other side, barely visible through the tall grass, was the entrance to a cave; Shauna raised a hand towards it, gesturing. "Hey - is that shelter?" she asked, her voice hushed. "It's - out of the cold - we should go there."

Serena could understand why she had not raised her voice - this place seemed sacred, somehow.

All around them was life. Serena could see Fletchlings, their feathers puffed up in the cold, a Furfrou, normally domesticated but now running wild, even a few Espurrs, the odd little Psychic cats that she saw sometimes whenever they visited Lumiose City. Here, a Noctowl hooted; there, an Amoonguss quietly released spores into the night. Once, she even thought she saw something large and vaguely fox-like, like a Delphox in black and red, and then she blinked and saw it had only been another Noctowl.

The Poliwags and Poliwhirls near the stream earned a smile (the Basculin, less so), skipping over the stones until they reached the cave. And there they settled down for the night, huddled against each other exhaustedly for warmth and comfort, Siebold wearily offering to take the first watch.

Serena released Renard, the Delphox blinking in surprise before the soft touch against her mind confirmed that he had made contact, quietly explaining all that had happened since he had last been out. Silently, Renard curled up against her side, and Serena huddled beside him, Shauna settling on her other side, her eyes already falling shut.

It would be a long time before Serena fell asleep, she thought blearily as she yawned, she would be lying there sleeplessly for hours, dwelling on the events of the day, mourning her empty belly...

Not even a minute had passed before she drifted off as well.

 

Serena awoke the next morning, aching from sleeping on solid rock but comfortably warm. It did take her a minute or two for her to actually be able to open her eyes, but when she did, she pushed herself up quietly, trying not to wake either Renard or Shauna.

It was too late - Shauna opened her eyes, smiling blearily. "Morning," she mouthed, and sat up as well. "I want some air, let's go outside."

It was barely sunrise, but beautiful, the night's snow gone and leaving flowers and grass swaying in the dawn breeze. Augustine had taken over as watch for Siebold at some point in the evening, and with a smile, he waved and held a finger to his lips - there was a small, grey and red Pokemon nearby, intently nibbling on a berry, and a larger pile of berries near the mouth of the cave.

(Breakfast, Serena assumed.)

"Oh, wow," Shauna breathed, carefully and slowly moving to sit beside Augustine, watching the little Pokemon curiously. "Do you know what it is?"

Augustine raised his hands, silently finger spelling, 'Z O R U A', adding, 'It is Dark type, they can make illusions. This one looks very young.'

An illusionist? Perhaps the one she had spotted last night was its evolution. "What are they called when they grow up?" she whispered.

'Z O R O A R K. I have seen them here too.'

Serena found herself smiling as she watched them, enjoying the sound of the Fletchlings and their morning songs, the sun slowly creeping over the meadow. There was a very faint mist still lingering, caught in the rocks and crags that surrounded it, caught in the trees, and it gave the meadow a dreamy, half unreal air.

She was about to ask what they would do next when another Pokemon stepped out from the forest.

It was immense, far taller than the tallest human she had ever seen. Four graceful blue-white-tipped hooves, a black body shimmering with iridescence, a graceful sapphire throat and head, the most intelligent grey eyes she had ever seen... pale blue markings curled over its face and trailed up its limbs, its antlers lit with dew drops.

Augustine had frozen, his own eyes wide in shock, his lips parted.

And then it was gone, the moment ended, and Serena turned back to Augustine in surprise. "Augustine?" she whispered, "Augustine, what was that? It was a Pokemon, right?"

He nodded shakily, biting down on his lip, and raised his hands again, finger spelling the name that made Serena's breath catch in her throat and her own eyes widen in sheer astonishment at what they had just seen.

'X E R N E A S.'


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter Thirty-One**

They parted ways shortly after breakfast, each with a different intention on where to go next.

Valerie, Siebold, and Grant had always intended to simply return to Kalos to find safety where they could, and Trevor, utterly exhausted, would be able to lead them to his home near Kiloude, following the river through gorges and channels cutting through the mountain. They would not enter the city itself, but there were rumours of a rebellion base nearby - they would be able to help them.

Diantha knew Lumiose City intimately; she had been born and raised there and would be able to navigate the back streets easily. She had instantly realised that their friends would have been taken to a cluster of Capitol-held buildings, their centre of government in Kalos as well as their prisons. Along with Hiroshi, who would not be recognised, who could move more freely, they would scout it out and determine the fates of their friends.

And that left Augustine (and Shauna and Serena, who would not leave his side) to travel to Geosenge and hunt down a Bringer of Death.

They, too, would take to the rivers, following them through the mountains and emerging not far from the stricken Santalune Forest. From there, they could go as far as Camphier, making their way overland on foot to the network of caves that ran from Rivière Walk to Cyllage, crossing into Menhir Trail...

And then into Geosenge, and whatever waited for them there.

It was almost like being back in the Arena, with Shauna and Serena at his sides and the snow falling quietly before them, and more than once, he almost turned to sign a question to Lysandre, to reach for his hand only to find empty air and to feel his heart break all over again.

His experiences being held by the Capitol had been hellish. He had been drugged, beaten, had blinding lights shone in his eyes. They had forced him to watch footage, over and over, of his Tributes dying, they had told him in gentle voices that if he did not tell them all he could about the rebellion, that more would die. And then they had mutilated him and left him for dead, and if they did that to Lysandre, if they hurt him the way he had been hurt...

He would not forgive them, and using Yveltal would seem alarmingly tempting.

Breathing out hard through his nose, he considered the path ahead. He had to have faith that Diantha and Hiroshi would be able to help Lysandre, and he did, he did trust them completely. And he had an important task ahead as well, one that Lysandre had entrusted to him directly.

But oh, Arceus, he wished he could be the one to go and find Lysandre personally.

He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to find a Bringer of Death, he didn't want to use Yveltal to threaten the Capitol. Couldn't there be another way?

That morning, they had seen Xerneas. But Xerneas had turned tail and left, and he did not know if they would ever see it again; if Xerneas would even help them if they did cross paths again.

And what could they do, even if they did cross paths again and if (and this was a big 'if') they managed to convince it to help them? "Hey, Capitol, stand down or I'll sic my gentle and graceful Bringer of Life on you"?

Perhaps Lysandre was right. Perhaps Yveltal would be a more potent threat. And at any rate, Xerneas had fled again and Zygarde was utterly inaccessible - it seemed that they did not have many choices.

All they had to do was keep going, and see where their path would take them.

 

Their path took them down the river and through a burnt forest and under a mountain, past rows of solemn standing stones and into Geosenge itself.

The town was abandoned when they arrived, some buildings showing shattered windows from gun fire, and Augustine felt the back of his neck prickle. The place felt - for lack of a better term - dead, and he could understand why Fairy types refused to go near the place.

But he could not see a legendary.

'It is getting dark,' he signed to the girls, keeping his gestures large in the gloom. 'We should find somewhere to sleep.'

"And search in the morning, right?" Serena confirmed, and he nodded once. The light of day would aid in the search - and, with some luck, make it feel less like they were walking through a graveyard.

They found a place on the opposite end of Geosenge to Menhir Trail, finding a small but dense patch of woods there, overgrown and wild. It had stopped snowing, at least, but the temperature still hovered only a little above the freezing mark, and he drew his legs up to his chest, shivering.

"Okay, you've kept watch every night since we left, so far," Shauna said stubbornly, folding her arms, "And me and Serena have only done half a night each. Tonight, _we're_ gonna keep watch, and _you're_ gonna get a full night's sleep, and no arguments!"

Despite the seriousness of their situation and location, Augustine could not quite prevent a smile twitching on his lips, raising his hands in defeat, dipping his head in acknowledgement. It was nice, he had to admit - knowing that both were looking out for him, that they were both protective of him like he was protective over them. They had found somewhat of a family now, forced together by circumstance but still choosing each other's company, and it was good to know that they cared.

If Lysandre was here, it would be complete.

But he was not, and Serena's Delphox was a poor substitute for curling up against him - warm, yes, but lacking intimacy and companionship and comfort.

And yet running on four hours of sleep for several days in a row was not ideal, and he found himself drifting off into unconsciousness despite himself, stifling a yawn and stretching out an arm for someone who was not there as sleep finally took him.

 

He was being shaken awake, torn from a nightmare and grateful for it, jerking back and blinking blearily. "Augustine!" Serena practically hissed, Shauna already awake and wide-eyed.

Largely because Xerneas had returned.

Augustine's breath caught in his throat, utterly transfixed by the creature before him. Before, they had seen it from across the meadow at a fair distance - up close, he could see that the pupils in those silvery eyes were shaped like crosses.

It turned away, and he almost called out for it to wait before forgetting he couldn't - but still, Xerneas stopped anyway, glancing over its shoulder before taking a few steps further. And then it stopped again, glancing back, and Augustine swapped a puzzled glance with the girls.

"Do you - do you want us to follow you?" Shauna asked, her voice quavering.

It dipped its head once in an unmistakable nod, patiently waiting for them to scramble to their feet and gather their meagre belongings. And then they set off, Xerneas guiding them not quite towards the town but slightly off to the northwest of it, skirting the edges, leading them to another collection of menhirs, these ones collapsed and crumbling.

No - not just collapsed. Pushed inwards, hiding a crack in the ground.

"In there?" Serena asked carefully, gesturing, to the space, just large enough for a person to slip through.

Again, Xerneas dipped its head, and Augustine hesitated, catching Shauna's sleeve to sign a question to her. 'What will we find there?'

"Oh, um -" Shauna faltered, "He wants to know - what we'll find in there? Like - I guess that's where Y-Yveltal is, right?"

This time, there was no such nod, just a long, searching gaze. Biting down on his lip, he cast his gaze towards the gap, trying to ignore the little voice telling him that they would be walking to his doom.

 _I'm afraid,_ he mouthed silently. _I'm afraid._

And Xerneas dipped its head low, nuzzling first at Augustine's hair and then his jaw and throat, and he froze as it gently touched the scar where he had attempted to cause his own death. His vision swam; tears had sprung to his eyes, undone by the gentle touch from the Bringer of Life, and he brought a trembling hand up to stroke the velvet fur.

 _Okay,_ he mouthed, unsure what question he was answering, and then turned away to start climbing into the hole in the earth.

Xerneas watched them go silently, and when he next glanced up, it was gone.

It was a bit of a drop downwards, and Augustine reached up to help Shauna down, not wanting her to hurt her foot any more than it already was. And then they started the long walk, steadily sloping down, the rough stone walls illuminated by hastily-added lamps. Augustine cast them a curious look - they were so free of dust that they must have been added some time in the last few weeks, certainly not ancient. Someone had beaten them here.

They found the chamber, the weapon, the cocoon, and the man at all roughly the same time.

"Ah, good, good!" the man exclaimed, hurrying over in a suit and labcoat of flaming red, peeling the nitrile gloves from his hands. He was so pale he was almost glowing; a shock of blood-red hair decorating his otherwise bald scalp, a pair of goggles fixed to his face. "My name is Xerosic. I must admit, I was hoping for more than two little girls and a traumatised Avox -" Augustine bristled defensively, stepping forward to usher the girls behind him - "But I guess you'll do."

"Do for what?" Serena scowled, stepping forward from behind him, her arms folded. "Is that Yveltal there? What's the machine?"

"Fleur de Lis' - Lysandre's - Ultimate Weapon," Xerosic said calmly, and Augustine rocked back on his heels, his lips parting in surprise. "He contacted me when you were in Orre and asked me to look for Yveltal. This pretty machine, it seems, has been in his family for millennia!"

Augustine's gaze flickered to the black cocoon - if the sheer malice flowing off it was any indication, then it had to be Yveltal in its dormant stage. But if Lysandre had contacted Xerosic about this, then he had known, had planned all along to use Yveltal - for something called the Ultimate Weapon, no less -

With a flash of light, Serena released her Delphox, and, following her lead, Shauna let out her Chesnaught as well. Augustine hesitated for just a moment before letting Artemis out as well, the Garchomp gauging the situation in an instant and moving to stand defensively in front of him. "Tell us what's going on," Serena said evenly, and Augustine had the sudden thought that his Tribute had the makings of a hero.

Xerosic certainly seemed amused, chuckling. "Right. Apparently, this is a three-thousand-year-old superweapon that nearly caused extinction when it was last used. It didn't do the job, obviously, and the king who created it disappeared. His brother was crowned instead, and the knowledge passed down to his descendants. That'd be Lysandre, for those playing at home. Now, Lysandre intends to use Yveltal as a power source for it, and use it for leverage over the Capitol." He shrugged once, frowning. "I got in contact with him from that Capitol prison. He told me to give you the briefing. We can't actually activate it yet, though - not without a key - and for that, we need him."

Augustine stared at him in appalled silence, gaze flicking from Xerosic to the weapon with Yveltal's cocoon wired in place. Not only had he found a legendary, and precisely the legendary that Augustine did not want to use, no less, but he had it wired up to power a... a weapon of such magnitude that it could probably destroy all life.

If nothing else, it would certainly be a good incentive for the Capitol to stand down.

But this was... madness. 'We are not going to use it', he signed firmly, Shauna translating the sign language for Xerosic. 'I will help you free Lysandre but we are not going to use it.'

It was only a bluff. It had to be a bluff. There was no way that Lysandre was actually intending to use it.

Would he?

 _"If we want to truly stop suffering, then all life must end. It is the_ only _way to ensure that no one will ever hurt again."_

It was only a bluff.

...Wasn't it?


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Violence, character death (mostly unnamed, also two named characters)

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

Lumiose City, outside of the station which was the only part Shauna had ever actually seen, was enormous.

Xerosic and his organisation (not part of the rebellion, specifically, but allied with them - and, more specifically, allied with Lysandre) had managed to claim a couple of Capitol hovercrafts with methods she didn't really want to think about, but at least this meant returning to Lumiose City in style. Instead of trekking for days through the snow, they could fly, and be there within a handful of hours.

On the way, they prepared - getting changed into tougher boots, pants, and jackets with multiple pockets, black and slim-fit. Shauna's was a little too large, and she folded the sleeves up, tucking Fariha's Poke Ball in one of the specially designed pockets. It made a barely distinguishable bump at her hip when minimised, but still easy to reach for in an instant. On the other side was an empty holster for something, and she touched two fingers to it curiously.

"Aww, sweetcheeks!" exclaimed one of the members of the organisation, pulling a black jacket on over her blindingly red uniform (which, Shauna could not help but notice, clashed magnificently with her bright purple-dyed hair). "Didn't they arm you? Lame!"

Shauna blinked once, dropping her other hand to the pocket holding Fariha's Poke Ball. "No, I have my Chesnaught," she said hesitatingly, and the woman laughed.

"Not like _that_!" she exclaimed, "Hey, hey, Bryony! C'mere!"

This one had green hair. Shauna blinked again. "Hey, Celosia. Whatcha want?"

"They haven't armed the kids! Isn't that lame?" the woman, Celosia, exclaimed.

Bryony of the green hair huffed. "Well, fine. I'll get her one," she told them, and vanished through a door to another part of the hovercraft. Before Shauna could ask her what she was getting Byrony returned, beaming as she offered something black and angular to Shauna.

She took it instinctively, took one look at what it actually was, and gave a little shriek, almost dropping the gun that had been set in her hands. "Whoa!" Celosia laughed, steadying her hands, "Don't drop that thing!"

Shauna let out a little wail. "Why do I have this?" she asked frantically, "I have Fariha! Isn't that enough?"

Another woman, this one blue-haired (were they colour-coordinated?), let out a snort. "You don't think the Peacekeepers are going to have a friendly Pokemon battle with you, do you? They'll have guns. They'll be shooting to kill. If you don't think you can do the same, aim for their legs or something."

Didn't this sort of thing require training? Trembling, she gingerly placed the gun in its holster, quietly vowing to never actually use it.

The hovercraft, now, was preparing to land, and she hurried to belt up. Serena had her own gun, looking highly discomforted; across from them, Augustine was half twisting in his seat as if trying to escape the weapon on his hip. She shot him a sympathetic smile, he returned it, looking queasy.

Their landing sight was a busy airfield, and Shauna found a helmet placed unceremoniously on her head as they approached their spot, unbuckling their belts. "On ten," Xerosic called, suited up and armed himself, "Keep looking military, follow my lead, don't speak, don't draw attention to yourself. Ten... nine... eight..."

The hatch opened, frigid air rushing in.

"Seven... six... five..."

It was just like the Arena, she told herself firmly.

"Four... three..."

She would follow Augustine and Serena, she would be safe, she would help save the captives.

"Two..."

And then she would try to help convince Lysandre not to do something foolish.

"One!"

And they were hurrying out, getting into a line behind Xerosic. Shauna kept her head down and her hands looks as she followed them, wishing she didn't look quite so out of place - Xerosic was leading them into one of the buildings - and then one of the other hovercrafts exploded with a rush of heat that nearly scalded any exposed skin, and the port was thrown into chaos.

"Here!" Xerosic called sharply, drawing his company off to the side, ostensibly to get into a better position but really leading them to a place where the wire fence had been cut. "Get through, quick!" he hissed, and she dove under the wire, scrambling back up to her feet.

There was an old building, there was a door. There was, in the empty and graffiti-covered room that they had taken shelter in, a trap door. And there was, under the trap door, an ancient metal ladder and a tunnel.

The last of their group dropped inside, the door slammed shut, and everything went very, very dark.

"You can breathe now!" called one of the women, lighting up a lamp. "We had some of our people cause a diversion so we can get here. We're in the catacombs now - this will lead us directly under the Capitol buildings. If you leave your helmets here, we can pick 'em up later."

Catacombs? Shauna bit down on her lip hard, found Serena's hand, and squeezed.

Still, it only really looked like tunnels now, carved from rough stone and the smell of dampness in the air. The light that the blue-haired woman held up did not do much other than give them some sense of direction, and Shauna glanced around for Augustine, finding him on Serena's other side and looking about as confident as she felt.

He was, in the dark, very, very mute, and she winced sympathetically.

At the first checkpoint, they met the next group - more figures in black, their faces hard to distinguish in the gloom. One detached itself from the group and approached her, and she had just enough light to recognise the strand of blonde hair against the black before the greeting of, "Hey, Spoinktails," came.

"Hiroshi!" she exclaimed softly, grabbing him in a quick hug. "How long have you been here?"

"In the Capitol? Like, three days. In the tunnels? About an hour?" He shrugged, turning to greet Serena and then Augustine, slinging an arm around the latter's shoulders and murmuring something she could not make out.

He had a gun too, Shauna noticed; they all did - even Diantha, approaching them with a weary smile. Just how much violence were they expecting? How many of them would get hurt?

"So, let me fill you in," she told them hurriedly as the group started to move. "The catacombs are enormous, and there's old entrances everywhere, including the Capitol buildings. They're old, all the old buildings had entrances to them, they were used as escape tunnels as well - we're going to use them to get in. There's two groups - ours will help free the prisoners, the other will..." She hesitated, just for a moment, and Shauna managed to catch a glimpse of her biting her lip in the half-light. "The other will set explosives up through the Capitol buildings."

Shauna did not blame her for sounding apprehensive. Fighting to escape the Arena was one thing. But explosives? Deliberately attempting to destroy a building, rather than running and hiding to prevent being destroyed? It seemed... excessive, and yet she couldn't really see any other way to drive the Capitol out of Kalos.

_"We were talking about writing science fiction, and it's set in this horrible dystopia where this evil government punishes all its citizens for just about everything, and our heroes want to destroy their main government building as a symbol to the resistance, and we're trying to work out how to stop them."_

She had said that, hadn't she?

"Is this going to be televised?" she blurted out, turning to Diantha. "I mean - not us, but - the building blowing up. Will it be televised and broadcast?"

Diantha glanced at her and a faint, sad smile crossed her lips. "Yes. It will be."

Shauna nodded silently, and they pressed onwards, shuddering as bones and skulls began to appear in the walls - the catacombs, after all, were not just a fancy name - and shivering as the temperature dropped further and further. It had not been very warm to begin with, in the middle of winter and underground, but now Shauna's breath fogged out in front of her, catching the light and glowing whitely.

At least there was more light here, she thought muzzily, stifling a yawn. Little lights on the sides, like lanterns. Like...

Like...

Silently, Augustine released Artemis, his eyes very wide in the gloom. 'Do not release R E N A R D or F A R I H A,' he signed urgently, 'There are fire ghosts around.'

Not like lanterns.

Like Lampents.

Shauna's hand tightened on Fariha's Poke Ball so tightly it hurt. They were surrounded by ghosts, surrounded by ghosts that stole life energy, and she had yawned earlier, they had already started, they were going to steal her away...

"Walk fast," Diantha told them, her voice brittle. " _Don't stop_. Don't look at them. Don't acknowledge them. Just - just move."

She moved, biting down on her lip to keep herself grounded, still holding Serena's hand in one of hers and Fariha's Poke Ball in the other. _Just keep walking, just keep walking, just keep walking..._

"They probably don't need to keep mutts down here," Hiroshi murmured, "The Ghost types are probably enough of a deterrent. You'd have to be crazy to go down here willingly." He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "What does that make us?"

But he did not leave their side.

Finding the Capitol building and scrambling up the ladder was almost a relief, even when the other rebels stormed in with all guns blazing. Shauna kept her gaze on the floor, did not look to the sides, did not acknowledge the dead bodies that had been shot down, trying not to gag as they split into their groups and raced to the prison complex.

Xerosic shot the guard personally and yanked the key cards off his belt, tossing them to Hiroshi to free people indiscriminately. "There's a hatch in the lowest level down to the catacombs!" he shouted as he opened door after door, "Don't delay, go fast!"

"My Pokemon," Alexa groaned as she stumbled out, "Where is she?"

"Found them!" Serena called, dragging a rather large box of Poke Balls out from a storage locker. "I don't know which is which, though!"

Celosia tossed her a bag. "Take 'em all, we'll sort them out once we're gone," she instructed urgently, and Serena and Shauna started shovelling the Poke Balls into the pack, Shauna apologising silently to each one, wondering who they all belonged to.

Augustine emerged from one of the cells, and Shauna's face lit up to see Lysandre leaning heavily against him. "Lysandre, are you okay?" she shouted over her shoulder, and Lysandre gave her a wry smile.

"I've been better."

_Not an Avox,_ she thought with a sigh of relief, and continued emptying the box into the bag.

"Is that everyone?" one of the others called, and the woman with bright orange hair called back an affirmative. "Right, let's get clear!"

They could focus on helping the prisoners and carrying the Pokemon to freedom, Shauna thought grimly, hurrying to help Tierno stumble out. They could help them and ignore the fire fight, ignore the people dying - Capitol workers, yes, but people, people who were doing their job and... well, imprisoning people.

She would help them. She would not hurt them, and escaping to the catacombs was quite a relief.

"Poke Balls!" called the orange-haired woman, and Shauna handed her the pack, watching her run a scanner over them and start releasing Pokemon. A large blue one that looked like a grown-up Froakie, an Absol, an Inkay, a Zoroark, a Murkrow... "Dark types?" Diantha said with interest, and the woman nodded distractedly. "Good idea."

" _Mutts!_ " screamed a new voice, one of the rebels dropping down into the catacombs with something large and hairy snarling viciously shortly behind him. It vanished behind a hail of bullets, leaving a slightly steaming corpse - mutated Pokemon, she realised distantly, something grey and black but with far more than the average amount of teeth.

They had more problems than just the mutts. Those could be subdued by bullets, although she did not miss the way Augustine cringed as each one went down.

The bigger problem was that they had, in the fight, managed to destroy the control mechanism for the explosives they had set up.

"It has to be triggered manually, then," the orange-haired woman told them grimly. "They're all hooked up, igniting one of them will trigger the rest - but, well, whoever does it isn't coming back. Well, maybe if they get the pieces together in a plastic bag."

Slowly, barely seen in the half light, Drasna reached out to brush against Professor Rowan's arm.

"We'll do it," she said evenly, and Augustine let out a wordless sound of distress. "We're easily the oldest here, and the future should belong to you." She smiled sadly in the gloom, stepping in front of Augustine and leaning up to kiss his forehead. "You get out of here. Make sure that the future is your own. Don't answer for the sins of our past generations any more. Please take care of my Noivern for me, alright?"

Augustine nodded, the light catching the dampness in his eyes, Lysandre downcast at his side.

"Hiroshi, Augustine," Professor Rowan said evenly. "It was good working with you." He linked his arm with Drasna's, and added, "Shall we?"

She nodded once, and Shauna bit down on the inside of her cheek suddenly as she realised the nature of their relationship, that they had lived together and now they were going to die together. And they were silent, subdued as they returned to the Capitol building, the remaining rebels filtering back in, most with their heads bowed as they hurried along with their small army of Dark types.

And the explosion ripped the buildings above them apart, and they ran.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

Serena was quiet as the hovercraft returned to Geosenge.

The captives had had their injuries seen to - thankfully, they had no permanent injuries, although they had not been adequately fed, it seemed, and bore bruises and cuts and a few cracked bones from their mistreatment. Lysandre was largely silent, bearing the medical examination patiently before returning to his place beside Augustine - arms wrapped around his waist, his cheek resting against Augustine's hair, an inversion and a reflection of the way Augustine had clung to him after his own rescue.

It was sweet and yet sad, that they had each other like this, that they had gone through such things to drive them together. They sat together quietly, Lysandre having already reclaimed his two Pokemon from the very large stash they had with them (of course, that bore the further question - what had happened to their previous trainers?), out of the way from everyone else, Incendie warm and curled up behind them, and held on to each other.

It could not have been easy. Even with the liberated prisoners, the hovercraft felt bereft without Drasna and Professor Rowan, and Serena suspected that half the reason that Augustine clung so tightly to Lysandre was because he was the only family he had left.

Anyone could see that they loved each other. Anyone could tell just from the way Lysandre clung to Augustine like he was a life raft in the middle of a raging ocean; like he would keep his head above the water, like he could keep him from slipping into the fathomless depths if only Augustine could stay afloat himself.

So why would Lysandre ever, ever consider firing the weapon?

Was this on Augustine's mind as well? There certainly was a troubled look in his eye. Did he, too, fear what Lysandre was capable of? Or was it simply concern for what had happened to Lysandre while in the hands of the Capitol? Was he simply relieved to have him back? Was he simply enjoying the experience of holding Lysandre and being held by him?

Serena wished she knew. She wished there was an easy answer, a way for everyone to be happy, to live in peace without fear of the Reapings or the Games or the Peacekeepers. She wished she had her mother back. She wished she could go home. She wished she had never been born, and she wished that she could change the world.

But wishes never did come true, would they? No doubt that everyone shared a different wish - the wishes of President Harmonia would have been very different to her own.

Shauna nudged Serena's ankle with her foot, giving her a troubled glance. "Are you okay?" she murmured, "You look sort of... distracted."

Serena nodded, lowering her mouth to Shauna's ear. "Someone has to talk to Lysandre, but I don't want to be the first one to do it," she whispered back, "We need to know what he's going to do with the weapon, but he's also just - you know, he's only just been rescued, I don't know if it's the right time..."

Exhaling softly, Shauna nodded. "Yeah. And I don't know _how_ we're supposed to ask, anyway. What if he gets really angry?"

Again, Serena nodded, but there were greater things than just Lysandre's anger at stake. There was the possibility that Lysandre could deny it, and that he would be insulted and mistrustful at the breach in faith. There was the possibility that Lysandre could confirm it, and then she honestly had no idea _what_ they would do next. What would be the ideal?

The Ultimate Weapon really existed, and Yveltal in its dormant cocoon form really was wired in to it. The facts were undeniable - what was less certain was what Lysandre would do, the actions he would take against the Capitol.

Was his anger at them great enough to lash out at the world?

It was Xerosic who forced the issue to the forefront, returning from the hovercraft cockpit and dropping himself down on a chair. "Boss, we've gotta talk," he said bluntly, "Do you want to do this here, or in the back room?"

Slowly, Lysandre lifted his head, letting go of Augustine and straightening up as if pulling himself physically back into line. "Here is fine," he said hoarsely, "They will have to hear it eventually."

"Right." Xerosic gave him an inscrutable look, and said bluntly, "We don't have the key."

"What?" Lysandre was frowning, sitting up straighter. "Did I not tell you to have everything ready by the time I arrived?"

Waving a hand (covered in a nitrile glove, Serena noted with interest), Xerosic snorted. "Yeah, and we would, except you never told us we'd need a key. We've got it ready, but there's no way to activate it. Still," he added, and those disconcerting red visors fixed on Lysandre, "The Capitol doesn't need to know that - we can wire up some flashing lights or something and pretend that we can fire any time. I mean, we don't need to actually be able to activate it just to threaten the Caps, right?"

"Yes..."

Lysandre sounded distracted, caught off guard, and Serena turned to him with a frown. Augustine was doing much the same, drawing back so that they were no longer in close contact, something pained on his face.

"Lysandre?" Shauna asked tentatively, and he turned to look at her, his eyes still haunted and lost. "Lysandre, it is just going to be a bluff, right? I mean, you're not going to actually... fire it, right?"

He did not answer immediately, staring at the floor of the hovercraft. "The world is a terrible place," he said slowly, the words pained. "There is so much injustice and inequality and suffering. We are chosen as children to fight for our lives at the expense of others, and no one stops it. The Capitol sees us as entertainment. The regions do nothing to stop the slaughter of their children. The other regions and countries stay on the sidelines and do not get involved. They break us. They ruin us. They destroy us. They will never see us as human. And even if we fight, the same thing will happen over and over again. We vowed to end suffering, but suffering is a part of life. If we are to carry out our vows... doesn't that mean that we need to end life, too?"

Augustine was staring at him with his eyes wide and hurt and aghast, shaking his head very softly, his mouth twisted as if Lysandre had caused him physical pain with the words he had just said. 'No', he signed, his hands trembling, 'Not this. Not this. Please, no, not this.'

Lysandre smiled, but it was a painful one, cracked and brittle. "Isn't this the only way to prevent a pointless, drawn-out war?" he almost pleaded, "If we fight, people will suffer horrifically, you've _already_ suffered horrifically! People will lose their family and friends and loved ones, their homes, and any possibility of rebuilding from the ashes. Serena's mother is already dead, others will inevitably die too. The fighting will continue. The war that ended fifty years ago was supposed to end suffering too, and instead it produced the Games. More and more people will die - isn't it better to at least make the end swift and painless?"

Skittering back to physically distance himself from Lysandre, Augustine signed, 'No!' again, his gestures sloppy in his distress. 'There must be other ways! Not this!'

"There is not," Lysandre whispered, and closed his eyes.

 

It felt like a very long trip back to Geosenge, although only a bare few minutes had passed since Lysandre's revelation had passed. Serena felt as if she was moving through a dream as Lysandre and the rest of the team disappeared into the cave, hesitating just for a moment before following after them with Shauna at her side. Augustine was silent and subdued, his head bowed and his hands trembling; automatically, Serena reached for one and Shauna caught the other as they descended into the earth.

The Weapon was waiting for them there, like a crystalline flower bud with the world's most malicious flower waiting to bloom.

A man was waiting for them there, immensely tall and haggard, an elaborate key on a chain around his neck.

Xerneas was waiting for them there, its cool grey eyes gazing through them, the pale blue marks lit up in white-gold and its antlers blazing with colour.

Yveltal was waiting for them there, an immense black and red bird with eyes that burnt like blue fire.

"And now," said the ancient, enormous man in a voice like cracked glass, "We decide."


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

Lysandre took a single step forward, and said, "Give me the key."

His ancestor's brother, for it was surely him that stood before him, ancient and immortal, the Undying King with eyes full of sadness, shook his head. "Non."

It didn't matter what happened, now. It did not matter that Xerneas and Yveltal were watching him in pity and in hatred. He took a step forward towards the old man, one hand on Espoir's Poke Ball, the other extended outwards. " _Give me the key_."

"It should not be used," the Undying King whispered, "Everything will vanish again. Do you want to know unending pain... like I have?"

Lysandre met his gaze. "I will not feel pain. Not after this." But there was a seed of doubt there, too - the Undying King had fired the weapon, and yet he survived, lingering in the cracks and corners of the world, never to die, never to rest. "What makes you think I will feel unending pain?"

The immortal's eyes fixed on Augustine, and Lysandre glanced up at him, gaze skittering away guiltily again. "I lost someone I love. For three thousand years -" One of the girls let out an audible gasp - "I have suffered without her. If you vanish everything, you will lose the one you love. You will know unending pain too."

Trembling from head to toe, Shauna stepped forward, her gaze skittering between Xerneas and Yveltal and the Undying King. "I - I'm sorry, sir, but - what do you mean, three thousand years? What - what is that thing?" She flung a hand towards the weapon then stepped back again hastily, feeling for Serena's hand.

The Undying King was silent for a breath, two breaths, three. And then he closed his eyes. "A terribly long time ago," he started, voice soft and brittle, "There was a man and a Pokemon. He loved that Pokemon very much. She was a gift from his mother. He loved his mother and he loved that Pokemon."

Even Lysandre had fallen silent now, half watching the weapon and Xerneas and Yveltal before it, partially watching the key, partially watching the old, old man.

"A war began," he continued, and his voice wavered. "The man's beloved Pokemon was taken from him. She took part in the war. Several years passed." His voice cracked and broke. "He was given a tiny box."

Lysandre turned his gaze to the Weapon, and so did the Undying King. This was the reason he had done it, the reason he had created it - a machine to bring a Pokemon back from the dead, and a weapon to end everything else.

Perhaps he could use it in the same way. Perhaps he could save himself, and Augustine, and the children, and everyone else he had ever cared for.

"The man wanted to bring the Pokemon back," the immortal pressed on, "No matter what it took. The man built a machine to give it life. He brought his beloved Pokemon back."

"She came back to life?" Serena whispered, the soft vocalisation loud in the silence of the chamber. "But - that's good, isn't it?"

His hands had balled into fists, his shoulders trembling. "The man had suffered too much. His rage had not subsided. He could not forgive the world that had hurt the Pokemon he loved." And he turned to Lysandre, meeting his gaze fiercely.

Lysandre shrank back involuntarily, feeling like a very small child beneath the weight of that ancient gaze, the child that the Capitol had destroyed the moment they had called his name. The Undying King gazed at him with something worse than condemnation - he gazed at him with understanding.

"He turned the machine into the ultimate weapon," he whispered, "The man became a bringer of destruction that ended the war." And now he lifted that penetrating gaze, let it land on Augustine, his expression softening and saddening. "The Pokemon that was given life must have known... that the lives of many Pokemon were taken to restore its life."

And he turned to Lysandre once more, and there was pity there. "The resurrected Pokemon left the man. And the man suffered. The man is still suffering. The man will always suffer. Do not do this thing. Everything will vanish, and _you will know unending pain_."

Augustine was watching him. Augustine was watching him with those sad, sad grey eyes, and Lysandre was torn between the dual impulses to run to him, to embrace him and take him into his arms and to reassure him and promise that he'd never hurt him, never, ever, and the urge to push him away, to tell him to run and hide from him because he, Lysandre, was dangerous, because he had once had the thought to end Augustine's life and that was something he could never, ever take back.

If Augustine lived, he would suffer. If Augustine did not live, then he would not suffer.

But Lysandre would.

And wasn't that magnificently selfish, to want to ensure that Augustine lived and suffered simply so Lysandre would not have to?

"I don't know what to do," he admitted hoarsely, "I don't - I can't - if we want to prevent people from suffering, this is what has to happen. We had a war and people died, and it led to the Games - if this all leads to war, what's to say that what replaces it won't be worse? And if we do have peace, then - it'll eventually end, it'll eventually lead to suffering, _being alive_ is what leads to suffering, how can we stop suffering without also ending life?"

Slowly, he turned to the weapon and to Xerneas and Yveltal, and sank to his knees.

"I don't know what to do. I don't know what the right action is. So long as we are alive, we will hurt. What am I supposed to _do_?!"

The words ended in a scream, both hands tugging at his hair as if the pain could distract him from the agony in his chest, feeling his eyes smart and sting and water. It hurt, simply existing hurt, his entire wretched past weighing down on him like the tons of granite above them, like the weight of the world bending his back. A hysterical sob or a scream was growing in his chest, one threatening to rise and burst out of him, to lash out blindly at anyone who came close.

Augustine's arms wrapped around him.

With a choked wail, he clung to him, burying his face against Augustine's hair, fingers curling into his shirt, digging into his skin almost painfully, Augustine never moving away, never letting out any indication of pain, simply holding Lysandre and letting Lysandre hold on to him. Augustine was whispering, he realised with an almost physical jolt, whispering, "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay" over and over - unable to sign or write, he was using what remained of his voice, the words inarticulate but intelligible, doing everything he could to try to reach him.

Slowly, tentatively, he reached back, steadying his breathing, drying his eyes. "What do I do?" he whispered desperately, "Augustine, please. Please, _help me_. What do I do?"

'I want to live', Augustine signed, his hands trembling. 'I want to live. With you.'

"But it hurts," he whispered.

'It's life!' The gesture went wild; Augustine visibly calmed himself. 'L Y S, it's life. Pain makes us who we are today. I would not be me without it and you would not be you. We can move past it, that is what makes us alive. Some hope of a better future is better than no future. We only live once, and I want to live with you.'

Lysandre bowed his head, and nodded once.

There was a faint sniff, and he felt Augustine's hands shift, catching one of his own, extending his index finger and little finger and thumb, tucking in the middle and ring fingers. The sign for 'I love you', he had explained once, and Lysandre watched as Augustine stroked the extended fingers against the palm of his hand.

Slowly, Lysandre made the same gesture, pressing the tips of their fingers together. "I do love you," he whispered, "Please tell me what to do now."

Augustine exhaled, pressing a kiss against Lysandre's temple before drawing back, signing, 'We need to let X E R N E A S and Y V E L T A L go.'

"Let Xerneas and Yveltal go," he repeated numbly, then lifted his head to stare at the two. "How did Yveltal get free?"

"I freed it," the Undying King said simply. "The Bringer of Life brought me here. We must make sure that no one else suffers the way I have. We must destroy the weapon."

"Alright." Lysandre stood like he was pushing through taffy, his shoulders slumped, still clinging on to Augustine to remain upright. "Alright. Xerosic, please arrange for the weapon to be destroyed."

For a moment, Xerosic remained sullenly silent, and then he sighed. "Fine. I'll get rid of it," he muttered, "Probably best you didn't blow up my experiments, anyway..."

"And what after that?" he asked quietly, finally and completely and utterly defeated. "How do we stop the Capitol?"

Augustine slipped one of his hands into Lysandre's, and Shauna took the other, smiling up at him tentatively. "Now - now I think we fight to save Kalos, right?" she suggested, whisper soft. "And we protect each other, and we work out what we want in the future, and we make it. I think - I think that would be okay. Isn't it?"

"And then we can rest?" Lysandre asked, his voice unsteady and sad.

"And then we can rest," Shauna said with a grin and a bounce, and Augustine turned to him and smiled.

 

In the years to come, Lysandre would be asked of his memories of the uprising that ended the Capitol's regime, and he would not be able to answer very much at all, the memories existing in snatches and trickles.

He remembered fighting, fighting in the cities and towns and little villages, smoke rising from Lumiose City.

He remembered moments of stillness and relative peace, Augustine never far from his side, waiting and waiting for something he could not yet articulate.

He remembered the sight of rebellion and Capitol hovercrafts in the air, of fire fights and mutts, of bombings echoing through the earth.

He remembered moments of life through death, moments of hope through despair.

He remembered the broadcast that showed all over the world, of N and Hilda and Hilbert flanked by both Reshiram and Zekrom, the young man quietly confronting his father. He would definitely remember the President's snarl as he furiously told his son that he should have just died in the Games like he was supposed to, and he remembered the colour draining from the man's face when Hilda grinned and pointed to the camera that had just aired his declaration of intention of filicide to the entire world.

(He remembered that last part with particular satisfaction.)

And he would always, always remember the declaration that the fighting would end, that the Capitol would release its stranglehold on Eastern and Western Unova, on Kalos, on Nihon. There would be elections in Eastern and Western Unova for the first time in fifty years, and talks of - eventually - reunification with the now-renamed Central Unova. There would be autonomous leadership in Kalos, now reunified itself, and in Nihon, in Kanto and Johto and Hoenn and Sinnoh.

The world was recovering. And if the peace only lasted for a short amount of time, then they would enjoy the time they had, they would make every last moment count.

And if ever a threat like the Capitol and the Games arose again, if ever the world was to plunge in to suffering like it had for the last handful of decades, if ever again they would have to fight for their lives and fight for happiness...

Then they would fight for it together.


	35. Chapter 35

**Epilogue**

"Papas, it's here, it finally came!"

Shauna was grinning wildly as she hurried inside, a thick envelope in her hand, the seal of the newly-reinstated Pokemon Research Standards Council embossed on the thick card in dark red. Augustine's eyes widened, his movements sloppy as he signed, 'Let me see!', snagging the envelope from Shauna's hand.

Nearly ripping the contents as he tore the envelope open, his smile widened further and further as he scanned the contents, the letter that confirmed that his application came through, that he would be starting during the spring, that his doctorate and his experience had finally paid off.

"Professor Augustine Sycamore," Lysandre murmured from over his shoulder as he read the letter with a smile, "Aurea was right. It does have a nice ring to it."

_Professor Augustine Sycamore._ Augustine found the nearest chair and sat down hard, still grinning ecstatically.

It had been a long road, getting there. He had been accepted for the doctorate program at École Polytechnique Lumiose soon after Kalos had settled down, becoming a part of the research staff after completing his PhD while also starting up a sanctuary of sorts for the trainerless Pokemon they had liberated from the Capitol. But Kalos was redeveloping its Pokemon training program, was setting up gyms and the Pokemon League, and young trainers were starting to go on their journeys, to see where their paths would carry them.

And they would need a Pokemon Professor.

Lysandre asked Shauna how her babysitting job had gone, and Shauna laughed as she explained how little Mariette had almost given her a minor heart attack by taking far too much after Grant and managing to climb on top of a book shelf, and how Nicolas was definitely Siebold's son when it came to cooking (even if he was only four), and how Valerie was mostly incredibly amused at both of her children's actions. From the hall, a chubby Gible waddled by, followed by her harried Noivern father, and Shauna broke off with a laugh to watch the little dragon.

Still reading and rereading the letter once, twice, six or seven times over, Augustine barely acknowledged these, a strange sort of ecstatic terror overtaking him as he realised that he was, in fact, now a Pokemon Professor.

He was fluent in sign language now, and so were most of the people around him. But students, trainers to support, was entirely new - perhaps he could write things down, use the handheld tablet that Lysandre had got him - perhaps they could take things slowly, work out a rapport with just a few trainers - perhaps he would be able to support other nonverbal trainers, or use his position to raise awareness for other Avoxes and others who had been permanently marked by the Capitol - perhaps - perhaps - perhaps -

Overwhelmed, he turned to bury his face against Lysandre's shoulder, feeling his arm come up automatically to support him. "Papa?" came Serena's voice from the door, returning from work and noticing his reaction.

With a broad grin, Shauna grabbed the letter from him, shoving it in her adopted sister's face. "Look what Papa got!"

Ten years ago, facing the prospect of returning to the Arena, he could not have imagined this. Kalos independent and at peace, with Augustine soon to become its regional Pokemon Professor, surrounded by his family of choice - Lysandre, now getting the help he needed (that they all needed), and their adopted daughters, never again to fear the Reaping, and Diantha in Lumiose and Hiroshi and his husband in Kanto and Steven and Wallace in Hoenn, and he would never, ever forget Drasna or anyone else who had sacrificed themselves for the peace they now had, and he would never, ever stop appreciating it, appreciating the lives that Serena and Shauna had carved for themselves, appreciating every smile he ever saw on Lysandre's face, every content look or gentle touch, every time his partner in love and life was genuinely happy, genuinely at peace.

"Okay, this calls for a celebration!" Serena cheered, turning to Lysandre. "Père, you're cooking!"

And Augustine let himself be led into the kitchen as Lysandre prepared the meal, sitting and listening and signing and conversing with his family, Artemis peering over Lysandre's shoulder in interest and Drasna nibbling at one of her toys with pointy Gible teeth and Incendie snoozing in the corner, finally content, finally happy.

They had earned it.

**The End**


End file.
